Meet the Moon
by YoungBoho
Summary: AU Eric throws a wrench into Bill's plans, causing him to seek the ultimate vengeance, which puts Sookie in the crossfire. Now Eric has to choose between Sookie and the life he loves.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **No one is mine. All credit goes to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball

**[Revised chapter] All my thanks to my fabulous beta Susanj51, who offered to go through sixteen chapters and clean up any messes I might have made! **

**Meet the Moon**

It was late, only a few hours before dawn and before I would leave Dallas after what seemed like an eternity with the undead. The trip had been life-changing in so many ways that it made me want to curl up in a little ball and not think about all the horrible events that had taken place. Yet, a small part of me wanted to sear every last detail into my memory. After being kidnapped, almost blown up, having my life threatened by more than one vampire, and watching the one stranger who cared enough to protect me from an unspeakable act, the one person who could make Eric cry, evaporate into his first sunrise in more than two thousand years, I was going back to Bon Temps completely changed—for more than one reason.

After everything that had happened, the biggest change would be dealing with a whole new web of Eric issues. I still couldn't believe that the manipulative, cruel, selfish vampire who tricked me into drinking his blood was the same devoted, _loving_ man I saw on the rooftop last night.

"Sookie, we must hurry if we want to make our flight home," Bill urged even though I was moving at top human speed, which granted, was not exactly supersonic. I was still doing my best.

"I'm going as fast as I can," I replied, throwing a few more sundresses into my suitcase, wincing at the thought of how stubborn the wrinkles would be to press out when I unpacked in Bon Temps. Focusing was much more difficult now that I had to untangle my fragile string of focus from the interwoven images of Eric and Godric on the rooftop every time I actually had to get something done. Like now, for instance.

"You're thinking of _him_ again, aren't you?" Bill's dark eyes peered deeply into mine, making no attempt to hide his jealousy.

All I could do was nod slightly, avert my eyes, and pretend that I was completely absorbed in packing.

Bill didn't say anything after that, only helped stuff the rest of my belongings into the suitcase, which now seemed so much smaller than when we came to Dallas. After a moment or two of shoving and rearranging clothes in thick silence, I felt Bill come up behind me and press my back against his chest, his cool hands running up and down my bare arms.

"I am so sorry he took advantage of you, Sookie," he was close enough for his lips to rub against my ear as he spoke—a gesture that normally would have sent shivers running through me, but for whatever reason, I felt nothing.

"We'll get through this." I tried to be reassuring. "It was only a few drops."

"Doesn't matter if it's a few drops or a gallon, he's inside you now. He always will be."

Bill could never know how true that was. For the past thirty-six hours, Eric was the first thing in my head when I woke up and the last person I pictured before going to bed. Last night, I was actually afraid to sleep. Even just a few hours after swallowing his blood, each time I so much as shut my eyes for a moment, he was there waiting for me; this big, Viking, vampire stalker was hiding in every crevice of my mind. I couldn't fight it. And worse, Bill was all too aware of each and every feeling I had.

"Sookie, let me finish packing for you, we have to leave for the airport now. The plane leaves in a few hours." Before I could protest, my suitcase was already packed, closed, and loaded onto the cart with the other luggage.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before Bill had to retire into his travel coffin for the trip, which would leave me with all the baggage—both literal and figurative. The silence had too many opportunities to think, and it wasn't long before I slipped into the memory of Eric and how carefully he had grasped my hand on the rooftop when I promised to stay with Godric through the end. We had fit together perfectly; his hand enveloped mine completely, warming me despite the coolness of his flesh. As much as I wanted to deny it, Eric and I had lived a lifetime in that single moment—whether that was because of the blood or something else I decided not to think about.

"Ready?" Bill asked, reminding me that he was still in the room.

"Absolutely, I just want to crawl into my bed and forget about all the horrible things that happened this week."

"I know how you feel," Bill said as he wrapped his arm around the small of my back and guided me out the door. I couldn't help but notice how stiff the touch felt. It was nothing like the comforting pressure I was used to. After the incident with Eric, Bill hadn't seemed as comfortable with me. All his usual caresses were robotic and stiff, not at all tender like they were before.

We walked together as far as the lobby before parting so that Bill could prepare himself for shipping inside the travel coffin. He pecked me on the cheek then disappeared down some back hallway and left me alone with my thoughts—or thought, as the case may be. The lobby was deserted, the quietest I'd seen it since we first checked in. Even the hotel staff was preoccupied elsewhere.

I sat quietly on a bench out of the way, waiting for the shuttle to take me to the airport and tried not to notice how the flecks of blue in the granite floors were the same shade as the cerulean in Eric's eyes.

Bill used to occupy my every thought. I used to dream about him, about giving him my body to do with as he pleased. I remembered dreaming of his cold touch against my feverish skin and how all I wanted was more. The sensation of Bill's teeth piercing my neck had sent shivers of delight racing through my body. In those dreams, everything about Bill seduced me into a writhing puddle of submission; he could do whatever he wanted with me.

Now, instead of Bill, I was picturing Eric in bed beside me. I found myself longing to feel his arms around me in a post-coital tangle of limbs; I wanted to know the sensation of his fingers drifting in lazy patterns across my naked skin as we talked quietly of whatever slipped into our heads. In those few moments on the roof, I had seem a fathomless emotional depth that Eric had managed to hide from the rest of the world, and now, ,God, help me, I wanted nothing more than to see just how deep those feelings run, to see what it would be like to be the subject of those emotions.

These fantasies I had about Eric were so different from the ones I had with Bill—more vivid and elaborate. What was wrong with me? How could I have let a few stupid drops have this much of an effect on my life? I loved Bill, so why couldn't I forget about Eric? My love for him was stronger than any blood bond could be.

I repeated the mantra to myself over and over, hoping that it would eventually feel as true as it sounded out loud while I sat in the lobby waiting for enough time to pass so that I could get out of there.

"Sookie," I heard a familiar voice whisper from directly behind me. My body reacted before my mind had the chance to place the voice as my stomach fell through the floor. Dread, excitement, anger, hope—they all mixed together in my chest, almost knocking me down beneath their pressure.

"It _is_ always a pleasure," Eric added, his voice purring with sarcasm—a not-so-subtle reminder that he would always know what I was feeling.

"Eric," I replied coldly, turning to look at him with what I hoped was an expression of certitude. I expected to see the familiar, stony mischievous light that seemed to be a constant presence in his gaze, but it was missing. Instead there was only dullness; his spark was gone. Despite having a body of no more than thirty-two years, Eric looked ancient. His head hung lower, and his shoulders were slightly hunched beneath the burden of loss. My heart immediately reached out to take some of his grief.

"Here is your fee. Ten thousand, as we agreed." He extended an envelope to me stuffed with more cash than I had ever seen at once.

I hesitated before taking it, not sure what to say. "I wasn't expecting this until after we got back."

"Yes, well," he said looking as uncomfortable as I'd ever seen him. "I wanted to give it to you myself, and I didn't know when I would see you again," Eric pressed the envelope into my hand. I swore I felt his fingers linger over mine.

"Eric," I said a little more softly this time, the money all but forgotten. The longer I looked up into his face, the closer I came to seeing behind his façade. Emotions welled up in his eyes, but Eric quickly shoved them away before I had the chance to identify them, replacing his expression with a familiar, cold aloofness. "Are you okay?"

Eric hesitated before responding. "I will be fine. Thank you, Sookie . . . for everything," he gave me a slight nod, meeting my concerned gaze, and turned to leave.

Suddenly, I found my arm reaching out for Eric's and clasping onto his hand, much like when I'd promised to stay with Godric. The comfort we shared on the rooftop returned immediately and enveloped us within the moment. Neither of us said anything, but Eric's eyes turned to meet mine again. This time he made no effort to conceal his sorrow. I felt a spark flash between us when our gazes fused together, and everything outside this single instant of connection ceased to exist, even Bill—especially Bill.

"Godric found peace." I felt the words leave my lips but didn't remember thinking them. Our eyes remained locked on each other for a few more seconds when my hand registered a slight, almost imperceptible, squeeze before Eric released it, and he slipped back to wherever he came from. I wasn't even sure whether Eric was aware of what he'd done, and I didn't really care. All I could think about was how my heart almost fell out of my chest from that single touch. And about how I had never felt anything like it before.


	2. Chapter 2

**[Revised chapter] Thanks so much to my beta Susanj51 for cleaning up after me! **

**Thanks so much for the positive response to Meet the Moon. It has been **_**years**_** since I've written anything, so I'm a little out of practice—please bear with me until I get myself back in the groove.**

**P.S. was anyone else disappointed by the True Blood season finale? I thought it fell way too short of the standards set by the absolutely fabulous preceding episodes, and I definitely was not a fan. Anyways, onto the reason you're here…**

A week since I came back from Dallas, and my life still was a complete wreck. I couldn't work, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't focus on anything except Eric . . . _still_. So much for using the time and space between us to bring myself back under control. Eric had made an appearance in my dreams every night where he tortured me with the tender touches and whispered nothings that stole my attention from the man I truly loved.

Despite the hurricane that had been sweeping through my head the past seven days, it was nice being back at Merlotte's. I was surprised by how much I'd missed the smoky smells and dingy light that made everyone look slightly more attractive than they would have normally.

Sam wasted no time scheduling me for double-shifts to make up some of the time I lost when I was away. I was grateful for the distraction of other people's thoughts to help keep my mind from focusing on my other problems. For the first time in my life, I relaxed my brain and let everyone else's troubles temporarily cover up mine. I didn't feel the least bit guilty that I knew Andy Bellefleur had fallen off the wagon and couldn't go more than a few hours without a drink or that Arlene had missed another period and was wondering how many extra hours she would have to put in to pay for a quick trip to the clinic.

No one here ever thought of Eric.

"Sookie, order up!" Tara yelled from the bar with two foaming pitchers of beer in her hands.

It was then I realized that I'd been standing in the corner of the bar staring customers down as I sought safe haven within their minds. The atmosphere might have been good for forgetting about Eric, but all the distracting temptations were making me a crappy waitress.

"Sorry, Tara, I don't know where my head is tonight!" I grabbed the alcohol and whisked them over to the two busy-bodies gossiping in the corner booth.

_I don't know where it's been all week. You've been a hot mess ever since you got back._

I almost responded to her thought with a verbal one of my own but caught myself just in time. All I needed was to get chewed out by Tara for looking inside her head; that would have been the bright red cherry on top of my sundae.

"—yeah it's a vaccine that makes them human!" one of the women exclaimed as I placed the beer pitchers on their table.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked the two middle-aged women. They looked at me, and I fell into their heads.

_I wonder if that Vampire of hers is going to get that vaccine to make himself a human. That girl's too soft, too stupid to be turned. If I'd met him first, he'd be with me instead of that stupid redneck . . ._

"No, we're all set here," the fatter of the two women smiled and poured half a pitcher into her empty glass.

I should have been used to it by now, but it was all I could do not to dump the other pitcher on her ugly face. And what the hell was she talking about? There wasn't any magic vaccine to make vampires human again. They were dead for crying out loud! She thought she knew so much about me, but I handled vampires more dangerous and older than she probably even knew existed, and I was still just a regular old human. Eric had more than one thousand years to master the art of manipulation and develop his vampire powers, and I'd held my own against him. So what that I drank some of his blood, dreamt about him every night, and thought about him almost all day. I still had no desire to leave Bill. Eric might have been five times the vampire that Bill was, but that made Bill five times the human Eric was, which was so much more important. I was never going to leave Bill. _Never_. Bill didn't need a magic pill to make him human because he practically was anyway.

If anyone needed a good dose of humanity, it was Eric. I wondered what he would be like if he felt emotions for someone other than Godric; would he be like I dreamt? Would he still be self-absorbed, or would he feel for other people too? I wondered how he'd been this past week? I thought that I would have at least heard from him by now. After all, he did _want_ me—fat chance of that ever happening. But still, I hoped he was okay.

"Um, I said, we're fine," the bitch at the table said, which immediately snapped me out of yet another Eric-induced trance. Apparently, I had been staring the women down for the last thirty seconds while I played all those ridiculous human-Eric scenarios out in my head. He really was making me suck at my job.

"Oh. Sorry," I stammered and ran off to the back. I didn't need to be telepathic to see how harshly those two women were judging me right now. God, I had to get myself under control. I needed to be able to work. That stack of bills on my counter wasn't getting any smaller.

"Sookie, can I see you for a minute?"

I turned around, and Sam's face was barely a few inches from mine, his deep blue eyes were heavy with concern. But that was not unusual for Sam; he walked around every day looking like he carried the entire universe on his shoulders—always taking everyone else's problems on as his own.

"Sure, Sam, what's up?" I asked after following him into the office and shutting the door behind me.

"You tell me." He leaned against the desk with his arms crossed and an intent expression across his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The look in his eyes told me he knew I was lying. "Ever since you've been back, you've been distracted. Where did you go? What happened?"

"Nothing happened! Something just came up, and I had to get away for a few days." I did not want to get into this with Sam right now. That was one good thing about Eric, he never pried—

"Come on, Sook!" he said suddenly, startling me back into focus. "I didn't think a little trip with your Vampire buddies would make you incapable of taking some orders and serving drinks. You can't even handle the slow shifts any more because your mind is always somewhere else!"

His blue eyes had an angry orange tint in them, which only was enhanced by the dim light in the office. They were almost as vibrant as Eric's . . .

"Jesus, Sook, there you go again!" He really was yelling now, and it looked like he was struggling to control himself this much. I took a step back and looked down at my shoes, hating that Sam was losing faith in me.

"I know, I'm sorry, Sam. I really am trying to control it!" I protested after he finished ranting.

"Control _what_?" he asked, his eyes widening with realization. "Did those bloodsuckers do something to your abilities?" He whispered that last word like it was a big secret or something. Now Sam was standing right in front of me, clearly losing the battle of self-control. Can't say I didn't understand the feeling.

"_No_!" I said. "Well, not exactly, it's just been a little hard to stay focused lately." I shrugged and avoided looking into his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Sam's voice was quiet again, and his hands suddenly clutched my shoulders, his face inches from mine now.

"Well . . ." I hesitated, feeling uncomfortable that he was so close. "I can't really tell you, it's sort of embarrassing—"

"Sook—" His grip on my shoulders tightened. I felt bad that this stupid fixation was making others worry about me now. If it was just me being affected, then I could have dealt with it, but when my friends were going to start stressing about my behavior, that was unacceptable. This had gone on long enough.

"Sam, I swear I'm not in any danger, I just made a stupid mistake, and I'm going to make it right."

"What does Bill have to say about all this? Sam asked, spitting out Bill's name almost as if it were an accusation.

"This is not his fault! And, he's doing the best he can to help me," I lied. Really, Bill had become just as frustrated as I was lately—not that I could blame him. Whenever I saw him, he knew I couldn't stop thinking of Eric. I'd even started comparing the two of them. I only half-felt, half-enjoyed Bill's touches because the other half of my mind was wondering what those same caresses would feel like with Eric's fingers. We haven't had sex since we came back to Bon Temps and not because Bill hadn't tried. I'd just been too afraid that I'd lose control and end up calling out for the wrong person. I didn't think either of us could live with that.

"Okay, look," Sam said, taking a step back and clasping his hands together. "It's a slow night. Why don't you just take off and take care of whatever it is you have going on."

"Sam, I—"

"You can make it up with another double-shift tomorrow," he gave me a small smile, clearly thinking that he was doing me a favor. What was I supposed to do? Drive up to Shreveport and chew Eric out for doing this to me? How was that going to change anything? Other than tricking me into drinking his blood, it wasn't like Eric had any control over my thoughts.

"Thanks," was all I could think to say because my mind had suddenly taken to the possibility of driving up to Fangtasia to see Eric. It might be a good idea just to go up there to remind him that I loved Bill and that there was no chance in hell I would ever leave him for someone like Eric. Maybe all I needed was some closure to help get myself under control . . .

"I'll take over your tables tonight, just get whatever's going on with you taken care of."

"Thanks, Sam," I said again, grabbing my purse from the corner cabinet. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sookie," Sam called before I ran out the door, and I turned to look at him. "Be careful."

"I always am," I said with a smile before shooting out the back door to my car in the parking lot. There still enough daylight to get me up to Fangtasia in time to talk to Eric before it got too crowded—enough so that I could get a little bit of a head start on Bill, who I know would follow me as soon as he figured out where I was. A small part of me knew that I should be using this extra time to talk to Bill, to figure out how to handle this whole mess _before_ going to talk to Eric. But I surprisingly didn't care. I just wanted to see Eric, _had_ to see him. I didn't think that I had any choice in the matter at this point.

The drive seemed to pass quickly, which surprised me. It seemed no more than ten minutes after I left Merlotte's before I pulled into the empty Fangtasia parking lot. The sun was just disappearing behind the horizon when I hopped out of my little yellow car, giving me hope that I wouldn't have to wait long for Eric to make an appearance. I wondered what condition he was in; after all, Godric had died only a week ago. Maybe he hadn't shown up to Fangtasia all week. Maybe he was busy feeding on some fangbanger. Maybe he was off being alone. Maybe I came up here for nothing. Maybe he followed Godric's example and wanted to see the sun one last time—

"Do not worry, Ms. Stackhouse, I have not yet met the sun," Eric's voice purred in the darkness behind me, causing me to start a little in surprise. "But I do appreciate your concern."

Almost immediately, my mind was at peace; all of the running it had been doing had suddenly ceased, and I could finally appreciate the quiet nights of Louisiana where the only sound was the soft rhythm of the crickets' serenade. It was the sound of heaven. I turned around to see Eric standing a few feet away. All I could make out was pale skin contrasting against dark clothing. His face was still immersed in shadow.

"I wasn't worried about you!" I retorted, immediately on the defensive.

Eric's response was a simple chuckle that sent shivers racing through my body, and I knew there was no sense in lying to him. He knew exactly what I was feeling.

"Come inside," he commanded, and I obeyed without argument.

Without a word, Eric led me through Fangtasia toward the back room. I almost had to jog to keep up with his fast gait as he swooped through the empty bar. Despite his immense size, his footsteps made no sound on the hard stone floors, whileI clunkered along behind him, seeming to make all the racket in the world. The bar appeared deserted, and I assumed that Pam and Chow were off feeding somewhere before it opened. Ick.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Stackhouse?" Eric asked, holding the door for me as I entered his office. I turned to face him, prepared to remind him yet again that I was in love with Bill and would never leave him for Eric, but something held me back. Something wasn't right.

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. Instead, I approached Eric, peering deeply into his face. His expression was the typical smirk and relaxed features, but in his eyes, I saw an overwhelming sadness. It was deeper and darker than I could begin to fathom. It reminded me of my own vacant stare that lasted for weeks after Gran had died, and I finally began to sense what Eric lost. As I moved closer, his mask faltered slightly, and I got a glimpse of the pain underneath. His eyes widened when the space between us dissipated, and I thought I saw a glimmer of unease.

"Sookie . . ."

His soft voice snapped me out of my trance, and I suddenly remembered why I was here.

"I just wanted to tell you that I love Bill, and I will always love him." I tried to use the tone of my voice to cover up how pathetic and weak my proclamation sounded out loud. It didn't work.

Instead of laughing as I would have expected, Eric actually took a step toward me. "You say that, but here you are . . . alone. With me." His smell was intoxicating, like the forest, and I breathed him in deeply. Mere inches separated us now as I stared up into his searching eyes, almost losing myself within them. I could tell that he wasn't trying to glamour me, that this connection was something else.

Before I could open my mouth to explain myself, the door burst open, and Bill's silhouette filled the doorframe, a cold, menacing anger radiated off of him and broke the mysterious spell immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

**Revised chapter**

**Much thanks to SusanJ51 for her super beta awesomeness! All remaining errors belong to this kid right here.**

The clock on the wall was flashing red bold numbers informing me that it was one o'clock; it made no difference whether that was morning or afternoon. I sat, curled in Gran's bed, not sleeping but not really awake either. My fingers were tangled around cotton coils that used to be carefully arranged sheets and blankets but were now laying twisted and mangled atop the bed. Clear, salty tears drifted lazily down my naked cheeks as I tried in vain to turn myself over to the healing powers of sleep. I no longer cared whether any vampire, blonde or brunette, appeared in my dreams because it was all a lie anyway.

Everything was crumbling around me, and all I could do was hide inside my dead grandmother's house, wishing she were here to comfort me. If ever there were a time when I needed her guidance, this was it. Bill was gone, Eric hadn't tried to contact me in days, and I was alone, too afraid to relive that night at Fangtasia when the wool was finally ripped from my eyes. Unwillingly, and for the thousandth time since it happened, I replayed the episode as a fresh storm of tears spilled down my face and a soft sob pushed through the last of my will power, breaking the silence.

Bill's face had been unrecognizable when he slammed open the office door. His fangs protruded over his lips and morphed his mouth into a permanent snarl; I had never seen him look so inhuman before. Dark, cold pebbles replaced the warm eyes I had fallen in love with, and I felt a chill down to my core when they focused on me.

"What do you think you're doing?" The soothing soft tones of Bill's voice had withered away into a noise reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard—thin, high-pitched, and shrieking against the heavy silence that had settled in the room before his entrance.

At some point after Bill had stormed into the room and before his voice grated into the quiet, Eric moved from standing just in front of me, to leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed and wearing a bemused, interested expression.

"Bill, just calm down a minute, let me explain—" I tried to reason with him, but deep down I knew it was hopeless.

"There is nothing to explain," he interrupted, his voice still clasping onto that deadly calm. "You deceived me and came here to see him. I sense you just as much as the night I first gave you my blood; you cannot lie to _me_, either."

Bill stepped close enough to me that I could feel the coldness radiating from his skin on my face, and I immediately tasted the bitter, coppery taste of fear.

"I know I shouldn't have come here without talking to you first. But I did it for us—"

"Do not kid yourself, Sookie," Bill scoffed. He began to circle me like a scavenger waiting for its dinner to give into death's embrace. "I feel your attraction. You came to see him!" He threw an accusatory arm and a deadly stare at Eric, who still seemed amused by the argument.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I could feel my face turn scarlet with shame and the salt water start to fall from my eyes. Days later and it still hasn't stopped.

Bill didn't say anything for a moment. He only stared at me with those beady, lifeless eyes—like a shark's eyes. I had nothing else to say, so I waited for him to give me some indication of what was going through his head.

The next time he spoke, his voice had regained some of its warmth, and the sharp taste of fear in my mouth dulled slightly.

"Sookie, I know this is difficult for you but you cannot simply run over here whenever your feelings become too much." Although his words were calmer, his tone still held a sneer, which I sensed was directed more toward Eric than me. "We need to talk and decide how to deal with this, together."

The air slowly began to return in the room as Bill regained some control. I could see the sinews in his neck, taut with the strain of restraint, visibly relax as they retracted beneath his skin. My breath flew out of my chest in an audible sigh of relief; I hadn't even realized I was holding it.

"Bill, I—"

"I wonder, _Billy_" Eric interrupted, apparently deciding that the end of the argument was the right time to interfere. "Whether you had informed Ms. Stackhouse of _all_ the effects vampire blood is said to have on humans when you first healed her."

And, just like that, all the tension had returned; the silence was so heavy that I could barely breathe, even if I wanted to. Every ear in that room picked up on the sound of pieces of my heart breaking away and shattering against the cold floor when the weight of Eric's words crushed down on me.

The memories began to falter at this point. I had vague memories of Bill lunging at Eric and of Eric batting him away like a mosquito. I remembered Eric's eyes bearing down on me, suddenly within close range again. But most of all, I remembered being swallowed up by an eternally empty sense of loneliness when I realized that my entire relationship with Bill had been a lie.

I didn't remember how I got home, I didn't remember what happened the next morning, I didn't remember anything except how much it hurt returning to an empty house where everywhere I looked, I was reminded that the one person who could give me any kind of comfort me was dead. I remembered crying out for Gran in my sleep.

And that was how I'd been for the last few days. I didn't know whether Bill had tried to see me. I doubted it. After all, this was his fault; he'd been lying to me since the day we met. He obviously had no respect for the caring, nurturing relationship I thought we shared.

How could I not have figured it out? Bill practically told me himself after Eric's stupid trick!

Sometimes, the depths of my naiveté truly scared me.

All I wanted right now was for Gran to burst in the room, open the curtains, and scold me for wallowing so much. She always was a staunch believer that everything happened for a reason and that crying over the obstacles was useless. At the end of your life, it was those little moments of strife and pain that made you a stronger, better person.

God, I missed her.

Knowing that if she were here, Gran would tell me to get back into the real world, I pulled myself out of bed and began to wander through the house. It wasn't much but it was a start, a slow return into the rest of the world. Starting in the bedroom, I lightly ran my fingers across the silken wood of Gran's antique dresser that her grandmother had given to her as a wedding present so many years ago, memorizing the pattern of the grain. My fingers hovered over her jewelry box as if they sensed the emotions and memories attached to each piece in her collection.

I continued to follow Gran's trail into the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where she spent most of her time. Memories of her friendly greeting each morning when I came down for breakfast and of the delicious smells that lingered in the room hours after she had finished cooking came over me like a warm blanket. I could almost taste the sweetness of her homemade biscuits melting softly on my tongue.

I went through each room in the house, trying to picture the last time I saw Gran there, what she had been doing, what she had been wearing, what she had said to me. Slowly, I began to feel better knowing that I had these simple memories of her to cling to; she was still there. This was still her house.

But it wasn't enough. I wanted more; I wanted to be closer to Gran, _had_ to be closer to her.

After a few moments' hesitation, I flung open the front door and stepped out onto the porch that was glistening with the dewdrops of early evening. My satin nightdress immediately clung to me, the white material surrounded my curves like a second skin. Night had taken over, and I knew that Bill probably was out there somewhere but I didn't care. I couldn't live my life in fear of running into the man who broke my heart.

My bare feet felt every wet blade of grass and every hard pebble as I made my way over to the cemetery. The cool night breeze brushed against me, soothing my heated face. My tears had stopped flowing but I knew the pain would still be evident in my eyes. Gran had always said they were the window to a person's soul, and right now, mine was broken.

Slowly, nature's calming influence took over; every step I took seemed to take me away from my pain and restore some semblance of inner peace. The knots in my chest began to loosen and relax, and I felt better.

After a few more minutes of meandering in the woods, the overgrown headstones and the empty pocket of tall grass within the forest came into view but I was no longer alone.

"Eric," I paused when I saw him standing a few feet away from Gran's grave. "What are you doing here?"

He was looming in the darkness, his head tilted back gazing into the sky. He turned and looked at me in acknowledgement of my approach but ignored my question.

"After more than a thousand years on this planet, very few things interest me anymore," his smooth, dangerous voice somehow managed not to break the peaceful silence of the cemetery. Instead, it complemented the serenity, almost as if it were a calming breeze on a summer day.

Since Eric wasn't asking me a question or answering my own, I remained silent and decided to place myself on the ground next to Gran's grave, making sure to place my knees under me to keep the dirt and grass from staining my nightdress.

"Tell me about your Maker," he said, returning his attention to the heavens.

"What?" I asked, confused. I tilted my head upward to see what was so intriguing and saw nothing but a few stars twinkling through the branches and moss. "I don't have a Maker."

He didn't answer me, only brought his gaze down to mine and gestured at Gran's grave marker.

"You mean Gran?" I almost laughed when the thought of Gran as a vampire entered my head. "She was just a human,"

Eric continued to look at me expectantly.

"Well, not _just_ human," I corrected. "She was my Gran."

I waited for him to say something but he returned his attention to the sky.

"What're you looking at?" I asked, wondering if his vampire senses were picking up on something I was too human to see.

"The stars," he said simply.

"Why?"

"They interest me."

I watched Eric standing there completely still, almost as if he himself were a memorial someone erected in the cemetery to honor a loved one's memory.

"So do you have to come to Bon Temps to look at the stars?" I said with a snit in my voice, suddenly annoyed that Eric decided to intrude on my visit with Gran for no other reason than to do some star-gazing.

After I spoke, Eric averted his gaze from the sky and connected with mine once again. In it, I saw the memories of that early morning on the roof of Hotel Camilla when Godric met the sun. His pain was evident, and any antagonistic feelings of mine vanished quickly.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like hours. I simply sat next to Gran, and Eric returned his attention upward. I wanted to be angry at Eric, but I didn't have the strength, not anymore. Right now, we were both two lost souls, abandoned by those who gave us the strength and encouragement we needed to face the rest of the world.

"You were attached to this Gran?" Eric said finally breaking the stillness of the night.

"Very much."

"Why?"

"Because she loved me unconditionally. She was the one person I knew would never judge me. No matter what names anyone called me or how they tried to hurt me, she would always be there to pick me up."

Once I opened my mouth, I couldn't stop. I told Eric what seemed like an endless list of the reasons why I loved Gran. When I was done, the tears had begun anew, and I noticed that he had turned his entire focus on me, his eyes peering deeply into my face.

"You never cease to catch my interest, Sookie Stackhouse."

I didn't know how to respond, so I chose not to. We returned to mutual silence, and I was content just to be next to Gran. Many people hated this cemetery because of its seclusion and because of all of the overgrowth, but I always found the atmosphere to be more peaceful. It was hidden away and gave its visitors the chance to grieve in private. The darkness and shadows created by the surrounding trees and foliage was beautiful, and I have never felt anything but safe when I visited here—now was no exception.

After a few more minutes of mutual quiet, Eric spoke again.

"It seems that your attachment to this Gran . . ." he began. Gran's name sounded strange and foreign coming from him. ". . . is much like the bond between a vampire and a Maker. I felt your pain and thought it was my own grief for Godric."

I looked at Eric carefully, searching for any trace of his usual smirk or condescension, but all I found was sincerity.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he continued, studying me.

"Thank you," I replied, and I meant it. A soft smile glimmered across Eric's face, and he once again turned his face upward, the starlight reflecting quietly off his face. I watched him from the shadows, taking in the appearance of his form absorbing the only natural light that wouldn't eviscerate him. His eyes seemed to become two bottomless pools of twinkling light, as the stars bounced and reflected off of them. Other than the quick glint of light leaking through the moving tree branches, the rest of Eric's body was covered in darkness, invisible to the rest of the world.

"Why do the stars interest you?" I ask, feeling like a child asking why the sky is blue.

"For many reasons,"

"Like . . ." I pushed.

He turned to me and smiled again, amused at my curiosity.

"Because they are forever. After a thousand years' worth of nights, they are still unchanged and will remain so long after you and I both are gone. I find that interesting."

I tilted my head toward the sky like his and began to look at the stars. I never found peace looking at the heavens, only insignificance, which I guess someone as old as Eric could find comforting—or maddening.

We fell back into another peaceful silence, each of us content to take what little comfort we could find in our reciprocated understanding. I thought about how strange it was that of all the people in my life who knew Gran and spent time with her, Eric understood best how it felt when she was no longer part of my life, and he had never met her.

As time wore on, the comfort of Gran's nearness eventually wore away into the inevitable thoughts of Bill's deceit. I knew Gran would be disappointed that I spent so much time wallowing in my own self-pity, but it could not be helped. Other than work, I had nothing to distract myself, and Sam refused to schedule me any more hours than the 55 he already had written down.

I looked up to see Eric staring at me, watching each tear as it fell from my eyes and mixed with the dew on the ground. I felt indifferent to his curiosity, I didn't care if he saw my pain, I didn't care if everyone saw it. He didn't try to comfort me and offered no words of condolence—not that I expected any. He simply watched me.

"You should not mourn for Bill," he said suddenly.

"Why not?" I said through my tears. "I loved him, and he betrayed me."

"Precisely."

I looked up at him, expecting some kind of elaboration, but he offered none.

"The stars are fading, I must go."

I looked up, and sure enough, the sky was paler than earlier. Some of the stars had already faded into the lightening horizon. I'd stayed there all night with him. When I turned to say goodnight to Eric, he was gone.

Sighing, I picked myself off the ground, brushed off some of the dirt that had sunken into my legs, and began to walk. It seemed like a shorter journey back home, which I was thankful for. Exhaustion had begun to set in; all I wanted was to curl up in a little ball and be unconscious for the next several hours.

I thought of nothing as I opened the front door and walked upstairs before sliding between the cool sheets of Gran's bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

I don't know how long I slept, but for some reason, I woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. At some point in my sleep, an uneasiness had crept inside me and seized control of my senses.

Something was _very_ wrong. Pulling on my bathrobe, I began to wander around my house for the second time that day. Everything was where I left it; all the furniture was in its proper place, the windows were clean and open to beautiful rays of sunshine, the house was clean, but something still wasn't right. My heartbeat grew faster with each step I took, and the uneasiness graduated into full-fledged fear. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was on the verge of panic.

I turned the corner and peered in the room when the air suddenly flew from my lungs in a whoosh. It looked as if someone had been murdered there—again. Blood covered the floors, the walls, the counters, the refrigerator, everything in giant smears and speckled spatters. The furniture was destroyed in pieces scattered across the room. I could smell the cold, iron from the drying blood as it seeped into the floor. I couldn't move or speak; all I could do was stand in shock at the scene before me.

I slumped to the floor and hugged my knees to my chest, trying to wrap my head around the situation. Who could have done this? Why would they?

My mind kept returning to Bill, but I refused to dwell on the idea for too long. I couldn't believe that he would be capable of something so horrible. But who else would want to hurt me this way?

The longer I sat in quiet shock, the more uncomfortable I became. It was as if something were lingering just beneath the surface of my perception, mocking me.

I turned all of my attention and focus on that nagging sense that there was something I couldn't see, and a sound began to emerge—a cold, chilling laughter that pierced my heart. The volume of the laughter quickly increased to hysterical levels, reaching every level of my consciousness.

Suddenly, a strong wind came up through the house and threw me back against the wall. My blood ran cold as I heard that chilling laughter, out loud this time, beneath the swirling air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Revised chapter**

**Many thanks to Susanj51 for all her beta greatness! All remaining errors belong to this kid right here.**

The laughter died away with the sudden phantom breeze, and I was alone again. I looked back at the kitchen and a sudden a piercing shriek seemed to fill every corner of the house, ringing in my head like a siren. It was only later that I realized the scream had come from me. Everything had returned to normal; the table was no longer in pieces and was neatly dusted with the chairs pushed in around it, and the bloodstains had disappeared along with that cold, metallic smell. In its place was the pacifying aroma of southern comfort.

I was losing it, absolutely losing it. Just a few nights ago, I was devastated over a few stupid dreams. Now I'm watching phantom murder scenes appear and disappear in my house. Everything else paled in comparison to this kind of insecurity. I couldn't bear to think about it.

Thankfully, I had work to get to soon so there was an excuse to get out of the house and clear my head for a while. For the first time in my life, home was the last place I wanted to be.

I entertained the notion of telling Sam or maybe Tara about what I saw but decided against it. For all I knew, I was two steps away from the madhouse and that was not something I wanted to go around advertising to people, even my closest friends. They were the only people who didn't refer to me as "Crazy Sookie" already, so why stir the plot? Besides, they all had their own lives and problems. I didn't want to add to them.

Picking myself off the floor and running up the stairs, I threw myself into the shower and tried to wash away the images that had just torn apart my brain. The warm water slowly brought me back to life and did wonders to help me feel human again. I tipped my head back and enjoyed the sensation of water sprinkling across my face like rain before it rolled down the rest of my body.

After lingering in the warm steam for as long as possible, I threw my hair back in a messy bun, pulled on my uniform, and slapped on some makeup. When I was finished, I turned toward the mirror for a final review, but instead of seeing my haggard reflection in a Merlotte's t-shirt, my attention was brought to the room behind me in much the same state my kitchen had been a few minutes earlier. Blood and an unidentifiable yellow liquid were smeared across every surface in the room, my grandmother's beautiful antique furniture was in splinters and piled together in the middle of the floor, and I heard that chilling laughter. There was even a crimson stripe of blood smeared across my white Merlotte's shirt. My jaw fell open, but no sound came out—I didn't think I had another scream left in me.

When I turned away from the mirror to face the horrors behind me, it was gone. The traditional furniture and rumpled bedding that I spent so much time in these days were back and my shirt was clean. I whipped my head back around to face the mirror, seeing nothing strange there either. I couldn't tell whether I'd actually seen the disaster in the mirror or if my head had put it there.

Shaking my head, I shut down my brain from even attempting to process what was going on. It was all too much. I ran down the stairs, picked up my keys, and was out the door without looking back. I'd almost made it off the front porch when a cold, sinister voice pierced through my deliberately foggy mind and spoke.

"Don't worry, Sookie Stackhouse. I'll be waiting for you." Then it giggled.

I wiped a stray tear from my face, and ignored the voice while I climbed into the car. Watching the house disappear behind the trees in my rearview mirror, it leered after me with a sinister grin, and a shudder ran through me.

By the time I reached Merlotte's, cold tremors were racing through my body as if I had just fallen through a thin sheet of ice and plunged into endless depths of frigid water. It was several moments before I could even steady my hand enough to remove the keys from the ignition.

I sat there in the solitude of my car and took a deep breath—a weak attempt to shove the day's events into the darkest recesses of my mind—and put on a mask of indifference to hide my fragile emotional state. After collecting myself somewhat, I walked briskly into the restaurant, my stride confident and my head high; I needed to work for the peace that came with keeping myself busy.

It was still a half hour before the dinner rush, so I had some time to settle into my shift. I threw my purse in Sam's office, pulled out my apron, and tied it around my waist, taking a few extra seconds to smooth out some of the wrinkles. I didn't want to look any more frazzled than I had to tonight.

"Hey, Sook, how's it going?"

Started and on edge, I shrieked at the unexpected intrusion and whirled around to see an equally startled Sam standing by his desk clutching a stack of papers.

"Sam, you scared me!"

"Didn't mean to, sorry," he replied. "I thought you heard me come in."

"No . . . I'm sorry, Sam. I've been a little jumpy lately."

Sam's response was to turn away from me and shuffle through the stack of papers in his hand. I could tell that he was fighting the urge to ask whether I was all right, but I saved him the internal struggle and left the office before he could speak. I was fine, just a little tired. Everything was fine.

I did my best to hold onto the mask of normalcy while I rolled some extra silverware behind the bar. Not that I really needed to; no one was paying any attention to me. Arlene was busy flirting with Terry in the kitchen, Lafayette was occupied with what looked like the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_, and Sam was still rummaging around in the back. Still, I didn't want to frighten away any early customers before they could sit down. That would only get me sent home early, which was the last place I wanted to be right now.

I had no idea what it was that chased me out of Gran's home so easily, but after what happened, I had never been more terrified to go back there. That voice had reminded me of silverware scratching against good china—cold, thin, and horrid. No good could possibly come from it, and it was in _my_ house—Gran's house.

Luckily, the dinner rush came flooding in, and I was too busy to wallow in self-pity for long. I flitted back and forth to the bar, whisking drinks and food to each of the patrons and doing my best to constantly flash my prettiest smile. I must have been doing a good job because I made more tips than usual. My shift wasn't even half over yet, and already I had a normal night's worth of wages—a small consolation prize for discovering that your entire relationship was a lie and that your house was possessed.

The clientele remained steady for several hours, keeping me busy enough to not notice that the sun had gone down and that it was time for those who belonged to the night to emerge from their underground solitude.

The way my life was going right now, I was not the least bit surprised to see that one such creature had decided to spend his waking hours in Merlotte's.

He took a seat in my section, of course, and waited patiently for me to come and take his order. I didn't need to turn around to know that his gaze was fixed on me, as usual. He was the hunter, and I was his prey—the only thing that held any interest for him, but Bill happened to be the last person I wanted to see right now.

I was tempted to ask Sam to handle his table but didn't want him to know what had happened between me and Bill. It was still fresh. The wounds he caused barely had time to scab over and acknowledging it would only cause them to weep again. Knowing that Bill was here, watching me, caused my heartbeat to accelerate and my cheeks to flush as I prepared to speak to him for the first time since learning the truth.

"I can do this," I said quietly.

After dawdling a little longer than necessary at the bar, I took a deep breath and marched myself over to Bill's table with an expression of what I hoped exuded confidence. Inside, I felt like I was going to be sick.

"What can I get you?" I pulled my notepad out as if Bill were going to order something that I would need to write down, but really, I needed it only as an excuse to hide my face. I still couldn't look him in the eye, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to again.

"Sookie—"

"We've got a special on tonight, O-neg is half off," I interrupted, hoping he could tell that I wasn't interested in anything he had to say.

"Sookie," he repeated. His voice was soft as silk and called to me sweetly, luring me back into familiar situations. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"I have nothing I want to say to you. Now if you're not going to order something, you better leave because there are plenty of paying customers who'll want this table." Every nerve of my body may have been just short of exploding, but my face and voice were flat calm. I meant what I'd said.

"You must let me explain—"

"Excuse me, Bill Compton, but I _must_ do nothing. You've been lying to me since the day we met. I don't owe you anything."

Seeing that he was not going to make any headway right now, Bill folded his hands and stared straight ahead, waiting for me to calm down, something I was not about to do any time soon.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. If you don't order anything, then you need to leave so we can give the table to someone else." I didn't bother waiting for a response before I whirled away from him, my ponytail swinging behind me, and wandered into the back.

Only when I was safely hidden from sight did it finally sink in that this was the first time I'd seen Bill since that scene in Eric's office. I had held myself together better than I expected—probably because my mind was still reeling from what happened earlier today and had partially shut down—but I was still a wreck.

Leaning against the back wall, I closed my eyes, taking a quick minute to catch my breath. All of this stress was starting to take its toll on me; my hands had picked up a slight tremor and my eyesight was lacking its usual sharpness.

After rubbing my eyes into focus, I opened them, and if the wall hadn't been right behind me, I would've fallen backward. Bill was there, standing close enough to kiss me, his eyes burning against mine. My hands managed to clasp my mouth shut before the scream of surprise became audible. Those poor nerves of mine were dealing with much more than they could handle, and I was afraid a nervous breakdown wasn't far away.

"Sookie . . ."

"What are you doing here? I told you I was going to come back."

"I must speak with you—"

"Bill!" I said as loudly and forcefully as I could. "There is nothing to talk about!" I turned to walk away, desperate to put some distance between us, but he grabbed my arm—gently, but forcefully—and pulled me back.

"Let me speak." His voice wasn't as loud or sharp as mine had been, but its effect was felt deep in my core. I froze.

"Everything okay here?" Sam appeared suddenly and interrupted our argument, worry lines etched in his face as he looked at me then down to my arm, which was still caught in Bill's grip.

"We're fine, Sam," I insisted, forcing a smile and jerking my arm free. "Mind if we use your office to talk?"

Sam looked back and forth between Bill and me before nodding and gesturing toward his office with one arm. I smiled and made my way inside the dark room, but not before I saw the barely contained anger in Sam's eyes as they glowered at Bill. I guess it was a little reassuring that someone seemed to genuinely care about me.

"Okay, Bill, what do you want?" I said when the door clicked shut. I leaned against Sam's desk and stuffed my thumbs deep inside my pockets because I knew that I would fidget if I didn't do something with them.

Bill hesitated. He was standing a few feet away from me, his arms hanging as still as ever at his sides, his unblinking gaze fixed on me. I never minded the fixation before, but now it just made me all the more uncomfortable.

"Well?"

The longer he stood there without saying anything, the more my apprehension grew. What I wouldn't give to see what was going through his mind right now, but his body language revealed nothing. Bill continued to stare, to watch, to study as I grew angrier. The throbbing of my broken heart filled the silence, which was quickly becoming unbearable.

"Sookie," he said finally. "You must understand that I did not mean to hurt you—"

"That's not the point Bill!" I interrupted, unable to hold back my anger any longer. "You let me believe that I really loved you—"

"You _did_ love me, Sookie, and I loved you!" He took a step toward me, but I put up a hand to keep him from coming any closer.

"_No_! Bill, no," I was yelling now, unconcerned that the rest of Merlotte's would overhear. Everyone in the dining room was too wrapped up in their own alcohol and misery anyway to pay attention to yet another lovers' quarrel behind closed doors. "You've been lying to me since the day we met. That is _not_ love!"

"You had been through a serious trauma that night, I did not think it would be wise to tell you of all the effects—"

"Oh, so I couldn't know that your blood works like a damn love-spell _before_ I slept with you? Shit, Bill . . . _Eric_ had to be the one to tell me that our relationship was a lie. Of all people!"

I saw Bill snarl at the mention of Eric's name, and it was clear that he still hadn't forgiven his Sheriff.

"Eric has his own agenda," he said quietly, contempt dripping off every word.

"Yeah, well, at least he's up front about it," I spat before bursting into a torrent of tears. My face crumpled into my palms, and I wept for my false love and for myself. I cried because Bill had lied and because I was too afraid to return to the safety of Gran's home.

Bill did not move or say anything as I fell apart in front of him. I could feel his eyes watching me, and I could feel his mind probing mine, tapping into my emotions, tapping into me, but I was too weak and broken to try and fend him off.

"Sookie," he said when my sobs began to soften.

But I had no desire to hear what he had to say.

"I have to get back to work," I said quickly, once again not meeting his eyes before practically running from the room. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so I was able to clean myself up without any pathetic judgmental stares from people who thought they knew better than me.

Bill must have gotten the hint because he was nowhere to be found in Merlotte's when I emerged from the bathroom. Over the next couple hours, I threw myself into taking orders and prepping for tomorrow, doing everything in my power not to think about what had just happened. Sam didn't ask about my conversation with Bill, and I was grateful for that, but I could feel him watching me closely for the rest of the night. When my shift was over, he nodded in my direction and told me to have a good night as I slipped out the backdoor and ran over to my car across the parking lot.

I hesitated before turning the key in the ignition and heading home when fresh memories of earlier that day tore a new hole in my willpower. Somewhere inside Gran's houses, that _thing_ was waiting for me.

"Get a grip, Sookie. Where else can you go?" I sighed and turned the car on, pulling slowly out of the parking lot.

No more than fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in my car outside my house for what seemed like eternity, afraid to go inside. But I had to do this—for Gran. She would never let something chase her from her home, even something so terrifying. Gathering up my courage, I left the safety of my car and walked toward the front door, my fear doubling each time I took a step. By the time I reached the entrance, my entire body was shivering despite the night's warmth. I needed both hands to grip the door handle and let myself inside.

When the door swung open, I peered into the foyer, not knowing what to expect. The entryway seemed normal, no blood, no destruction, but something was completely wrong. Usually whenever I came home I immediately felt the comfort of Gran's presence. Even after she was gone, I sensed her smell and the memories we'd shared whenever I walked through that familiar doorway. Coming home used to be my favorite part of the day. But now, all that was gone. Gran was no longer here. She had been erased.

I ran through the house, checking each room, praying that some piece of my Gran's presence was lingering somewhere, but I only found emptiness. That thing, whatever it was, was playing with me.

"I've been waiting for you, Sookie," the voice said after I completed my search. My body no longer had the energy to react. I couldn't scream, I couldn't shake; all I could do was listen. Except the voice had nothing else to say. The knowledge that this _thing_ knew my name, that it wanted me, and that it was strong enough to erase Gran from her own home made my blood turn to ice. All the color drained from my face; if I had a mirror, I was sure I would have seen how I'd look as a vampire.

The laughter began yet again, and all I could do was curl up onto the floor and shake. I had no idea know how long I lay there in my living room, nor when the laughter stopped, before I realized that I was no longer alone.

"Bill?" I asked, sitting up a little bit, sensing his presence. He entered the room silently and was immediately at my side on the floor. At this point, I was too tired to care that he had entered my home, despite what happened at Merlotte's. I was just grateful that someone else was here to verify that I wasn't losing my mind.

"Sookie," he said concerned, and I felt him touch my face gently with his cold fingers. "I came when I felt your fear. Are you alright?"

"There's something here," I whispered, as if that thing wouldn't hear me if I spoke softly.

Bill didn't respond; he simply stroked my hair and face with his long, soothing fingers. But I was far beyond physical comfort at this point. The only thing that could make me feel better was an explanation. I wanted to know what the hell was going on and how to make it leave; I wanted answers.

"What's going on here, Bill?" I asked, hoping he could tell me. "What's in my house?"

"Sh, Sookie," he said in his softest voice. "Don't think about that right now. Just let me take care of you."

"I don't want to be taken care of," I extracted myself from his grip. He needed to pay attention. "I want to deal with this. Something is in this house, and it wants to take over."

"Sookie, you don't need to deal with this right now—"

"What are you talking about? Of course I do!" I said, annoyed that his only concern seemed to be entangling those long fingers in my hair. "When am I supposed to deal with it?"

"Stay with me for a few days. We'll figure out what to do, and you can get some rest. Your house will still be here."

"…No! This is _Gran's_ house, it's my responsibility! If you're not going to help me, just get out!" My annoyance had morphed into something else, something darker. If Bill wasn't going to help me, then I would deal with the situation on my own.

"Sookie, you are being unreasonable—"

"_I said get out!_"

I could see that Bill was fighting to keep himself under control now that I had officially withdrawn my invitation; his eyes had grown dark and menacing and he stood up, towering over me.

"Don't do this," he said it more like a command than a request, but I was not about to back down.

"Get out of my house," I spoke slowly and carefully, pulling myself onto my feet to meet his gaze. As much as Gran would have chastised me, I found myself enjoying this new feeling of power. Bill was on my turf and only because I allowed him to be. But forcing him to leave wasn't enough, not now—I wanted more. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me.

"Sookie, _please_," he begged this time, taking a reluctant step toward the door." If you're not going to help me save Gran's house, then I'll ask Eric," I said with a slight smirk, wanting him to know that I took pleasure in how much pain my turning to Eric would inflict. This new vindictive side of me enjoyed watching Bill's face twinge with jealous hurt while he took another few steps toward the door. He was standing just at the entrance of the house now. "You probably would've had to ask him for help anyway."

Suddenly, all pretenses of concern and hurt evaporated from Bill's face and he looked like a true vampire—deceitful and cruel. His next words were spoken with a ferocious heaviness that rang inside my head like a gong.

"You will regret this."

Before I could register what happened, the front door had flung open and Bill disappeared into the night. I turned around, unconcerned by the threat and was suddenly all too aware of the negative energy that had compounded within Gran's house. Deep down, I knew that whatever presence had moved in was more evil than I could imagine and that the longer it stayed the deeper it settled into the fabric of the home Gran had worked so hard to build.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint shadow fly from the kitchen and up the stairs, quickly followed by the sound of a slamming door. Whatever presence was here had grown stronger while I was at work, and now that Bill was gone, I was going to have to face it on my own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Revised chapter.**

**Epic thanks to Susanj51 for cleaning this bad boy up for me. All remaining errors are mine.**

The screen door rattled against its hinges when I slammed it after yet another endless shift at Merlotte's. Hours of people complaining about their food or trying to make a pass at me, and all I wanted was to sit down and forget about everything that had been going on in my life. Without pausing for a second thought, I pulled the fridge and twisted the cap off one of the Bud Lights I kept around for whenever Jason made an appearance. The alcohol tasted awful, like dirty soap, and my face scrunched together as the foamy liquid made its way down my throat, but I swallowed as fast as I could. Through the window over the sink, I watched evening approach, occasionally breaking away for another gulp. It didn't take long for the last of the soapy drops to hit my tongue.

After belching and making some room in my stomach, I reached for another beer then retreated into the living room where I was planning on losing myself in late-night television and alcohol. This was my routine. At least, it had been ever since Bill stormed off. All I'd done since that night was work. If I wasn't working, then I was hiding from Bill at home—taking the easy way out, in spite of my house being haunted.

I just wanted to forget the past few months, but Bill wouldn't let me. He refused to let go. So far, every night I worked, he'd shown up, always sure to sit in my section. Each time he came in, my cheeks flared and I was so furious I could barely speak.

No matter what Bill had up his sleeve, I wouldn't give him the pleasure of being his waitress. I always made sure to ask Sam to cover his table, or I switched with Arlene. Usually he left soon after he saw that I wasn't going to talk to him, so it was never a big inconvenience for either of them. No one else knew what happened between us, and I did my best to remain as vague as possible. As far as I knew, everyone thought we were fighting. They didn't ask, and I never offered any information.

By the time I reached the bottom of my second can of beer, I had lost myself in the numbness of it all, enjoying what it was like to not care.

"Just let go Sookie, let it all go."

It was remarkable how quickly I had gotten used to the disembodied voice that had made itself quite at home since Bill's dramatic departure. Despite the general creepiness of the entire thing, this presence or entity, or whatever it was really hadn't threatened me other than the first day. Occasionally, I would hear a door slam or wake up to a shadowy figure standing over me in bed, which was frightening yes, but nothing more. After a few weeks, I was actually starting to get used to it. Though, I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Oh, I plan to," I answered the voice, my own sounding hollow and empty in the otherwise silent house.

I drained yet another can of alcohol, and let the numbness wash over me as the empty container fell from my hand, hitting the old wooden floor with a distant racket. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I was lost to the detachment—unable to remember a time when it was this easy to simply not care.

The only noise in the house was the sound of my fingers drumming against the arm of the couch in time with the monotone droning of some late-night comedian oblivious to how not funny he was, but I wasn't paying attention to the television. I was busy getting lost in the fog of intoxication and enjoying the sensation of not being in total control.

I must have lost myself to that drunken stupor for at least a couple hours. By the time I came to my senses, the late-night show had given way to an infomercial trying to sell me knives that could cut through cement blocks.

After watching the over-enthusiastic host for a few tortuous minutes, I shut off the television and tried to enjoy the silence, which now was weighing heavily on me. As I listened to the house around me, my ears picked up an untraceable static noise lingering beneath the quiet. The noise became clearer the further I dragged my mind from its intoxicated fog until I realized that the sound wasn't static at all. Someone was whispering.

I couldn't understand the language but as I listened, the words grew more distinct. The voice was speaking next to my ear, as if someone was sitting on the couch next to me, chanting some kind of spell. I simply sat there listening, unmoving, and slumped against the back of the couch with my legs sprawled open in a most unlady-like fashion and my shirt pulled over my now-bloated stomach. If someone walked in on me right now, they probably would have thought I was dead, but I was completely oblivious toward it all.

After polishing off yet another beer, I stumbled my way upstairs and passed out, not even bothering to take off my uniform. It was three-thirty in the morning—eight hours after I'd gotten back from my shift; it had only felt like one.

The next day I didn't wake up until four in the afternoon—an hour before my shift at Merlotte's. I was exhausted and could have easily slept another ten hours.

Somehow, I managed to stumble into the shower and get myself ready for work within thirty minutes. There was only enough time for minimal makeup to cover the bags under my eyes, my uniform was wrinkled from sleeping in it, and my hair was still stringy and wet. If I wasn't so tired, I probably would have cared about how awful I looked.

Too late to do anything about my awful appearance, I threw up my hair in a wet ponytail then ran down the stairs and out the front door.

The moment I stepped into the glaring sunshine, I was struck with the realization of just how lonely my life had become now that Bill was out of the picture. The feeling pressed down on me with all the weight of a boulder, and the air left my body in a heavy sigh. It was as if all the emotions that had been brewing beneath that thin layer of disconnection last night rushed over me in a tidal wave, and I had no choice but to be swept away by their force. Even though Bill had lied, he still made me feel special, like I mattered. Now, either I felt nothing at all or I felt everything at once.

I sat down on the porch steps and tried to pull myself together. It didn't work. As if I couldn't look any worse today, tears swelled in my eyes and washed away some of the makeup I had thrown on. The only thing I could think to do was run back inside and finish off the last beer in my fridge. Less than five minutes after I popped it open, the can crunched beneath my fingers and clattered against the floor, empty. Thank goodness Gran couldn't see me now.

Once the alcohol hit my system, I felt better and was able to make it off the porch and into my car, speeding to make up for lost time.

I knew it was going to be a busy night as soon as I pulled in. The parking lot was already three-quarters full, and the dinner rush was still at least an hour away.

"You're late," Sam said when I stormed inside and threw my purse into his office.

"I know, I'm sorry," I replied, tying my apron around my waist. "I got caught up in things at home."

"That's the third time this week, Sookie," he was sitting at his desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him and wearing a serious expression.

"Looks like it's going to be a busy night, I got to get out there," I answered, avoiding him. Not wanting to be pressed further, I put my head down and got to work taking orders and distributing drinks.

An hour into my shift, the slight buzz I had from the beer wore off and left me to fend off those ridiculous emotions on my own. Oh, how I longed for the days when Eric Northman was my biggest distraction. Now I had to take periodic breaks so I could cry in the bathroom or out by the dumpsters like some high-school reject that had to eat her lunch in the bathroom because she couldn't handle a breakup.

No matter what I told myself—that it was for the best, that Bill wasn't worth it, that I was much better off—I couldn't take away the sting of loneliness.

My shift crawled by. Each time I checked my watch, it seemed like barely five minutes had gone by. I tried to lose myself in work, making sure to get all my orders perfect, but it was useless. I couldn't be distracted. At least every two hours, I had to step outside to release some of the pressure that had built in my chest.

God, did I need a drink.

The thought of going home to nothing but an empty house where a ghost was lying in wait and a fridge devoid of any liquid comfort was too depressing to handle. Instead, I decided to go against everything Gran had taught me and drink alone in a bar at night with no guarantee of getting home safely. Luckily, my shift ended with the dinner rush, so I could grab a few drinks before we closed for the night.

Once nine o'clock rolled around, I grabbed my purse and pocketed my tip money. Tossing my fingers through my hair once or twice to spruce it up, I sauntered over and took one of the few vacant seats at the bar, informing Tara that I would be there for a while. She nodded, her loose braids spilling over her shoulders, and slid a gin and tonic in my direction. I smiled gratefully and took a sip, enjoying the familiar warmth and fuzziness that soon began to tingle all over.

I hoped that Tara and I could catch up a little. It had been awhile since we talked, and I missed her, but it seemed that everyone in Merlotte's was determined to keep her serving drinks right up until last call. So I sat there by myself and quietly nursed my drink, trying to make it last as long as possible. Tara had given me a double, which made it easier to take this one a little slow.

With Tara distracted, I left my mind was open, losing myself in the misery and sexual frustration of the people around me. It was embarrassing to see how much their feelings resembled my own. We all sat together—solidarity in our loneliness. Other than watching my own image flicker through the minds of older, fatter men, there was very little to distract me from the fact that I had resorted to the thoughts of strangers for company.

I continued to indulge my self-pity into the night until the atmosphere in the bar changed. What was a relatively social, calm atmosphere quickly became dark and nervous. Tension seemed to spring out of the ground, and the previously heavy conversation lightened considerably. Fear began to pop up in the minds of all the people around me.

I looked around to see what had everyone so uncomfortable and saw Eric standing in the doorway. He looked extremely out of place with his black leather jacket and tight darkwash jeans, towering over everyone else in their flannel shirts and stained baseball caps. I imagined that he had to duck to fit through the entrance. The poor bar lighting danced across his white skin and gave the illusion that he was glowing, particularly his eyes. I could see them scanning the gaping faces before him, only taking a second to seek me out.

My heartbeat accelerated from fear. Something had to be _really_ bad for Eric to come all the way to Bon Temps; normally he would have just summoned me to his bar.

Everyone was staring now, most of them with their jaws hanging open. I turned to Tara and indicated that I was going to need a refill. She nodded quickly, her eyes darting to the massive vampire who had since crossed the bar and was now standing next to me, before pouring a hefty serving of gin.

"Sookie," Eric greeted quietly.

As if it were a command, the two men sitting on either side of me suddenly got up and disappeared somewhere else in the bar at the mention of my name. Eric smirked and sat down in one of the vacated seats.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not sure I could handle any more of his games.

"There is a business matter I need to discuss with you," he said, resting one arm on the bar so he could face me easily. His expression was impossible to read.

My heart dropped at the mention of another "business matter." I didn't have another week of advancing the vampire cause in me; I was still recovering from the last time. Before Eric could continue, I raised the fresh drink to my mouth and took a large gulp.

"I understand that you and Bill have separated?"

My expression must have startled him because his blank face suddenly hinted at concern before returning to its normal, neutral arrogance.

I nodded, looking down at my drink so that Eric would not see the tears that appeared, on cue, at the mention of Bill's name.

"And you have no contact with any other vampires in the area?" he continued.

"Just you," I replied quietly.

His voice tread carefully, like it was walking on thin ice. "Well then, I guess this will be our last meeting."

"What do you mean?" I said, looking up quickly.

"I mean that your dealings with our kind are over," he met my stare head on.

"I thought you needed my . . . services," I replied, not sure how to feel about what he was telling me.

"As Sheriff," he explained, "I can use my subjects' property. If you no longer belong to Bill or any other vampire in my Area, then I have no power over you."

"Oh," was all I said, taking another massive gulp of my drink, which already was more than halfway gone. The room was beginning to spin—a result of fast liquor consumption.

"Of course," Eric said after a moment. "You could always volunteer your services," he flashed a grin. I wobbled a little bit on my stool.

"Ha," was all I said before finishing my drink in two more gulps. I looked over the glass to see Eric watching me but couldn't tell if I was amusing or disgusting him.

I had no idea why I was compelled to drink so much all of a sudden. The thought of having nothing to do with Bill or Eric or any vampires both tempted and terrified me. I liked vampires, I liked the freedom they gave me. Bill had introduced me to a completely different way of viewing the world. But at the same time, here I was sitting in a bar, drinking alone, because of vampires. I didn't want to deal with any of it—couldn't deal with it.

"What are you doing here, Sookie?" Eric inched just a little closer toward me. His fingers were almost close enough to stroke my forearm.

"Drinking. What's it look like?" I said, sucking the alcohol off one of the ice cubes in the glass.

"Yes, I see that," he responded. "Why?"

I hesitated. "Because I want to."

I ordered another drink and turned to see Eric studying me closely.

"What?" I said after the analysis went on for a few awkward minutes.

"There is something different about you," he replied. His usual playful tone was absent.

"Yeah, I'm drunk," I giggled, the first real giggle in awhile—never mind the fact it was alcohol-induced.

"I can't feel you as strongly," he continued, ignoring me.

"That's probably for the best."

"Sookie," he grabbed my arm and turned me to him. His touch pierced through my intoxicated cloud like electricity, and the attraction I had managed to suppress over the past few weeks came back in full force. My heart began to pound, and the world continued to spin, except for Eric; he remained sharp, and in focus, and directly in front of me. "Are you okay?" he asked, speaking slowly. This time he didn't hide his concern.

"I just have to go home," I said, not making any sense. "Then, I won't have to feel anymore."

Eric stared at me for a moment, then began to stroke my arm—a gesture that I'm sure was meant to be comforting but really only turned me on. His touch was like a silk scarf running up and down my bare skin, tantalizing me. Every hair on my arm stood up, reaching for him. I shivered.

"Well, then," Eric said, gently grasping my arm. "I guess I have to take you home."

"M'fine," I muttered, taking another gulp. The glass was completely empty now.

Eric's silken fingers left my arm and moved to my face, carefully brushing some hair out of my eyes. "Let me take you home."

I didn't move, only gazed at Eric and remembered what it was like to have someone take care of me.

It was suddenly too much to control. The loneliness, the alcohol, the pain, Eric; all of it was overwhelming. I lost myself in the depths of Eric's eyes and found myself yearning to be reminded of how it felt to be close to someone. Before I could think about what I was doing, I got up off of my stool and pressed my mouth to his.

The effect was immediate and intense as waves of sensation began to wash over me. Eric's eyes widened with surprise at my attack, then quickly closed as his mouth worked its magic on mine. The scent of leather and what smelled like burning leaves surrounded me while his lips embraced my own like they were old friends and had done this thousands of times before. His arms slipped around my waist and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss.

My stomach dropped to my knees when his arms enveloped me, and I felt his lips pull into a smile as he held me tighter still, never breaking the seal we'd created. Just then, I felt the prick of his fangs against my lips as they descended.

And then the kiss was done.

Eric suddenly was holding me at arm's length, his expression completely unreadable once again.

"We have to go," he said, throwing some bills on the bar to pay for my drinks. "Give me your keys."

Without a word, I handed my keys over to his waiting palm and stumbled after him into the Merlotte's parking lot. Silence had descended throughout the bar as I felt dozens of confused eyes staring at us. Based on everyone's expressions, I guess they knew now, or at least suspected, that Bill and I were over.

The alcohol made walking, among other things, difficult. I could barely make out Eric who was watching me, ready to intervene should I start to fall. Yet the little dignity I had left refused to allow me to faceplant outside a bar with only a vampire to witness my shame.

I was so focused on remaining upright that I didn't see Eric stop moving next to me. He held his arm out to keep me from getting away from him, then wrapped it around me, once again immersing me in his delicious scent. But it was not a tender touch. I could feel in the way he held me that it was more of a necessity than anything else. When I looked up, his face was set in stone and glaring straight ahead.

I turned slowly in my stupor to see what he was looking at and was faced with Bill. Seething anger radiated from him when he saw Eric and me together. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. The terrifying expression said it all.

I froze, thankful that Eric was there, despite Bill's anger, for no other reason than to hold me up.

After a tense moment, Eric began to walk again, keeping me close to his side. I never took my eyes off Bill as we crossed the parking lot to my car, and his eyes never left mine. My heart pounded from fear, which I was sure he heard. It beat so violently that I was sure even a normal person could hear it.

Eric settled me in the car carefully, forcing me to tear my eyes away from Bill and focus on making sure I didn't hurt myself in the process, and then managed to fit himself into the drivers seat.

By the time we pulled out of the parking lot, Bill had disappeared. Seeing him had brought all my anger and guilt to the surface, replacing the previous joy and excitement I'd felt from kissing Eric. We drove in total silence. I knew Eric was bothered by our encounter as well when he didn't mention how uncomfortable it was stuffing himself behind the wheel of my tiny car.

The trip home seemed unnaturally short, which probably could be attributed to Eric's refusal to recognize the speed limit. I had barely begun to sort out what just happened in the parking lot when we pulled into my gravel driveway. The stones crunched beneath my tires like snow when it was particularly cold outside, while Eric stared warily at the dark and empty house.

"Thank you for driving me," I said quietly, unfastening my seatbelt.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Eric asked, still fixated on my house.

My heart fluttered at the possibilities, thinking of the kiss we'd just shared and wanting more of it. But after seeing Bill in the parking lot, the rage in his eyes, the last thing I wanted to do was provoke him further. When I turned toward Eric, he was staring at me expectantly.

I shook my head. "Not tonight."

He nodded once as if he agreed and got out of the car. Before I could lift my door handle, Eric was already helping me to my feet. I tried to ignore what his searing touch was doing to my drunken libido.

I turned to thank him again, but his attention had returned to the house, so I decided just to go inside, when I felt him grab my arm.

"Promise me you'll be careful."

Not quite sure what that was supposed to mean, I nodded, exhaustion suddenly weighing heavily on me.

I nodded again for good measure and stumbled inside after fighting with the front door, leaving Eric in my driveway. Once I secured the lock behind me, I put my purse down and went into the kitchen to fix a snack before bed.

The moment I crossed the threshold into my kitchen, I heard a low growl, and something smashed me across the face. White stars of pain twinkled as I screamed. The force attacked again, taking my legs out from under me. I saw my blood spatter across the linoleum and across Gran's cupboards-the smell was sickly sweet. Within seconds, the kitchen looked exactly as I had seen it in my vision so many weeks earlier. The kitchen table exploded, its splinters stung all over my body, some hard enough to embed themselves in my skin.

I saw my crimson blood stain the floor and countertops, a stark contrast to the traditional off-white stain, Gran had maintained so dutifully.

Before completely losing consciousness, I heard Eric roaring with frustration outside on my porch.


	6. Chapter 6

**Revised chapter. Much obliged to Susanj51! **

Darkness enveloped me—like I was in a giant lake of black ink. My eyes were open but I saw nothing, I smelled nothing, I heard nothing beyond the ringing in my ears.

I was lying down trying to catch my breath when an extreme pressure began to spread across my chest, forcing the air from my lungs in a heavy gasp. The weight pushed a silent groan past my lips, and the inky blackness began to seep into my mouth, filling my nasal cavity and making its way to the back of my throat like a pair of wool stockings squirming its way inside me.

I started to suffocate. Struggling did nothing to remove the presence from my body; I couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, I couldn't even see what was attacking me. All I could do was kick my legs and thrash my arms uselessly against the unseen force.

Beyond the struggle, my ears strained to pick up any sound of approaching help, but all I heard was the ringing grow louder still. A sharp metallic taste filled my mouth in place of the force that had just clawed its way into my gut. Through it all, I felt no pain even though I knew my body had been completely destroyed.

The _thing_ inside me started to spread down my limbs. A painful tingling, like thousands of bee stings, made its way down my arms and legs all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes as if something was situating itself inside me, trying me on like a life-size Sookie Stackhouse suit, and I was absolutely powerless to stop it. My heart was pounding with fear and the mental strain of trying to fend off whatever was taking my body away from me. But it was hopeless. I was losing.

I lost.

The tingling lifted and carried me down, down, down into the depths of a dark, fathomless abyss where I was washed away like a raft lost at sea, lost inside myself and forgotten by everything I knew.

was And then came the pain. Unimaginably excruciating agony washed over me in wave after nauseating wave. I gagged but nothing came up except yet another flourish of red-hot lightning, which struck every nerve ending in my body. The pain was too great to assess the exact damage, but from what I could tell, it was bad. Even the slightest movement pushed me to the very edge of the consciousness that I was fighting to cling to.

Nearby movement stole my attention away from the two-inch nails being driven into my sides and between my toes, and I focused all my attention and will power on that one sound, the one thin string keeping me from falling into yet another unconscious oblivion where who knew what else would find me.

Without turning my head, I could sense someone sitting close by. l had no idea how long they'd been there. Not that it mattered. His smell was familiar and comforting. I wracked my brain for an identity to go with the forresty scent but came up empty. It wasn't until he spoke that I knew it was Eric sitting beside me.

"You're awake."

At the moment, the only response I could muster was a pathetic groan of pain. Yes. I was most definitely awake.

A cool pressure came to rest on my hand, offering some relief to the hot pain that raced through my veins. My entire body was on fire just beneath the skin, yet my limbs were too heavy to even think about smothering the flames. I concentrated on Eric's cool skin against my own and did my best to ignore everything else. It wasn't easy.

After some time, Eric pulled a cell phone from somewhere. To me, it looked like nothing more than a glowy, green rectangle. It wasn't until he dialed and I could hear the tones of buttons being pressed that I could put together what he was doing. Each time he pressed a button, my head rang with the corresponding tone like someone pounding my skull with a claw hammer, rendering it a demented musical instrument of torture.

Eric began to stroke the back of my hand with his thumb, somehow managing to further extinguish the fire raging within me.

"She's awake." Eric said quietly into the phone, still caressing my hand. I tried to pick up what the other person was saying but, unsurprisingly, couldn't. His gaze left an imprint on my skin as I felt him look me up and down.

"Not that I can tell," he paused for a moment then hung up without saying goodbye. We were alone again.

I looked at Eric and waited, but he offered no explanation as to where I was or why I was mutilated. He didn't even tell me who was on the phone. He simply sat there, silently rubbing the back of my hand, lost inside his own head.

Since he wasn't going to give me any clues, I was on my own to figure out what was going on. My mind strained to remember what happened, but the last thing I could recall was Eric's lips against my own at the bar and his expression when he pushed me away. The brief confusion in that moment was enough to make me wonder whether he was responsible for my current situation. Was it his fault that my skin had suddenly become six sizes too small?

Gathering all my strength, I took a shallow breath and turned my head. My vision was blurry, but I could make out his massive form hunched over mine. His gaze was directed toward the floor between his feet. Something was definitely weighing on him. Two worry lines were chiseled between glowing blue eyes that had since fixed on me.

"Are you in much pain?" he asked, his suede voice silencing the ringing in my head.

Not wanting to add to his load, I did my best to smile and reassure him. His face hardened immediately, and I had no choice but to conclude that whatever expression I made was anything but reassuring—definitely not the effect I was going for.

After that little failure, Eric's worry only etched deeper into his otherwise smooth forehead, and his thumb ceased its movements on my hand. He didn't speak again as we continued to wait. For what, I had no idea. Some time later, I managed to twitch my hand slightly, and Eric began his gentle stroking once again. If I didn't have that simple touch, there was no doubt that the darkness would have overtaken me once again.

After what seemed like hours of agonizing silence, Eric's head jerked up to look at something beyond my limited range of vision; I could only assume it was the front door. My ears strained to pick up any clues and barely caught the sound of gravel crunching beneath car tires. A few seconds later, a car door slammed shut and faint footsteps grew louder as the newcomer approached.

Eric left his perch at my bedside, presumably to greet whoever was joining our little party.

Their voices were muffled in the next room, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't make out what they were saying. I had to content myself with looking around the tiny room to figure out where the hell I was. The bed was small, barely big enough for me, and the room was cluttered. Piles of papers and books covered every available surface, including the floor. The walls were bare, and I could detect the faint smell of mustiness that always managed to seep into those Louisiana homes that had been truly lived in.

After a brief conversation, I felt rather than heard their approach. Each footstep seemed to stomp on either my head or gut, interchangeably as opposed to tip-toeing against the worn carpet. I would have cried out, but the threat of dry-heaving and its accompanying pain kept me silent.

"Sookie," Eric said, his face suddenly inches from my own. His expression was impossible to decipher. "Do you remember what happened?"

The other person was standing in the doorway; I stared for a moment but couldn't identify him.

Turning my focus back to Eric's question, I swallowed and wracked my brain for an answer. The only thing I could remember—again—was the wonderful weight of Eric's arms around me as he pressed us close together. I wanted to dwell on that moment—that last, happy moment—but I sensed that something else happened after that. Something bad. My body was shaking from the strain of trying to remember, but all I found was a giant void, almost like a section of my memory had been replaced by the emptiness of a vampiric mind.

I tried to dive deeper but something came up in my mind and physically closed the door to those memories, locking me out. I pounded against that door, throwing all my mental weight against it but it didn't move. My hands were clenched so tightly that blood began to seep out between my fingers.

When Eric saw the blood, he took a handkerchief from somewhere and gently cleaned my hand rather than licking it clean like most vampires would. Once I was sanitary, his hand returned to its perch over mine.

All the tension that had built up in those last few moments left my body in a gasp and left me as limp as a rag doll. I tried to speak but all I could muster was a croak resembling squeaky door hinges. I closed my eyes in frustration, wishing I had the strength to cry.

Eric carefully rearranged his grip on my hand.

"Squeeze my hand if you remember what happened."

My hand remained in his, limp. He paused, making sure I had enough time to answer.

"Do you remember leaving the bar?"

Again, I didn't move. His eyes bored into mine, searching for something.

"Do you remember me at the bar?"

My hand twitched immediately. He let go.

"Good girl."

Eric stood up and backed away from the bed. "I have to make a phone call," he said more to the other person in the room than to me, then stepped outside. "Stay with her."

As soon as Eric left the room, the other person filled his post at my side. I tried to focus my blurry vision, but all I could make out was a flannel shirt. Fortunately, that was enough. Sam. This was Sam's trailer. I was in Sam's bed, though not under the best of circumstances.

"Hey, Sook," he immediately gripped my hand to reassure me that I wasn't alone. He felt nice. Warm. Not as comforting as Eric but nice nonetheless. "How're you feeling?"

Since I couldn't speak, I squeezed his hand instead.

He smiled and nodded. I waited a few minutes before squeezing again and looking at him with what I hoped was a questioning gaze. Eric had given me nothing, but maybe I could get answers out of Sam. To his credit, he knew right away what I wanted.

"The situation is complicated," he hesitated. "I'm not sure how much I should tell you."

I sighed as haughtily as I was able and let go of his hand, which he immediately swept back up into his own again.

"But I'll tell you what I can."

I smiled and squeezed my fingers in gratitude.

"I don't really know when _this_ started," he gestured at me with his free hand, and I assumed that he was referring to my "accident." "But Eric came to me the night you and Bill broke up. He showed up at Merlotte's with you unconscious and asked me to take you home."

I blinked. All this time and I had never thought to question how I'd made it home after that awful scene. I had worked so hard to forget everything about that night that the details never mattered.

"He told me you and Bill had a fight and then you passed out. I don't know what happened with you guys, but Eric made me swear that I would keep an eye on you until further notice."

I didn't want to think about what would unnerve Eric to the point where he thought I would need a shifter bodyguard. It was becoming very clear that I had never come close to knowing the real Bill.

"Of course I told him that I'd look out for you, and I have been," he looked at me as if I was going to argue with him. "Eric didn't want you to know, so I had to be discreet."

My hand twitched at this point, asking for more explanation. Sam somehow understood and elaborated.

"I guess he thought that Bill must have posed some kind of, um . . . threat," he looked into my eyes at this point to see how I was processing the information. "He didn't want you to be any more frightened than you had to be."

Something else to file away and ponder during the long hours of recovery in my immediate future.

"Anyway, whenever Bill came around the bar I kept an eye on things, but other than that time he showed up and cornered you in the back, I didn't notice anything unusual."

Sam sighed, and rubbed his mouth with one hand, looking at me. The skin of his palm scraped against his stubble, like Velcro. It wasn't until I felt an additional pain in my chest that I even realized I was holding my breath in anticipation.

"So, the night Eric came in the bar to see you, it was a full moon," he paused. "That was a week ago. I told him earlier that I had to leave at nightfall to go . . . take care of things, which I guess was why he showed up."

_A week_? I'd been unconscious for a week? How could I have been out that long? Millions of other questions immediately swarmed into my head like a hive of bees as I tried to make sense of what he was telling me.

"I'm not sure what exactly happened that night 'cause I was out . . . you know," Sam nodded at me, and I acknowledged what he was saying with another twitch. "I don't know how he did it, but one minute I was Dean running around in the woods, and the next Eric was there telling me you'd been attacked and that he needed me to get to you. So I followed him back to your house. He broke a window. I dragged you out."

". . . attacked?" I forced the word out, ignoring how much my voice felt like a cheese grater against the sides of my throat.

Sam only nodded, saying nothing for a few minutes. When he looked at me again, his eyes had glazed over with tears. His voice was thick when he spoke, and I briefly wondered why I wasn't more upset. Usually seeing another person—especially a man—well up with tears was enough to make me cry like a baby. But not now. My eyes were dry as bones.

"Sookie," he grabbed my one hand with both of his. "When I got to you that night, I thought you were dead. You weren't moving. You were just lying there on the floor with more broken bones than I'd ever seen. You didn't even smell like yourself." He paused before continuing. "Eric said that your house wasn't safe, so we brought you here. He gave you a lot of blood. You would have died otherwise."

How could that be? Vampire blood was supposed to make you strong, make you feel good, and I was in the most pain I had ever been in my entire life. While I tried to process this latest bit of information, Sam continued to speak.

"—One of us has been with you since. We're not going to leave you alone until this is taken care of."

Until what was taken care of? I wanted to ask but, of course, couldn't. Sam released a breath that he seemed to be holding and looked me dead in the eye.

"Eric thinks that Bill has something to do with . . ." his voice died off and his brows came together. "Sookie?"

I tried to focus, tried to hold onto his gaze, but something was happening. Deep in my gut, a strange energy began to build, and an overpowering wave of nausea swept up my body. I began to dry heave. My body was thrashing across the bed, completely out of control, while pain rolled over me like thunder. Vaguely, I heard Sam call for Eric.

I couldn't stop thrashing, I couldn't breathe. Nothing. I was a victim of my own body. I gasped and coughed and gagged as the energy spread everywhere. Tingling once again began to move through my body down to the very tips of my extremities.

Then, as suddenly as the fit came on, it was over. I was lying on the flat of my back looking up at the ceiling when I took in a massive gasp of air. I looked over to see both Sam and Eric looking at me with faces of concern and a touch of fear. I wanted to reassure them that I was all right now; I could breathe again and the pressure in my gut was gone.

Without my telling it to, my head turned to look directly at Eric. My mouth opened to speak, but what came out was nothing like I had intended. Instead of my raspy, painful, croak, I spoke in an unfamiliar voice . It was reedy, piercing—unpleasant for anyone who had to listen.

"Fadr, bror, son."

Then I started to laugh. Chilling, high-pitched laughter that was all too familiar.

My heart was pounding with terror in my chest. What was going on? I looked wildly back and forth between Sam and Eric who were still looking down at me, not moving. Eric's eyes were hard and unforgiving, and his mouth seemed to be carved from granite. My eyes pleaded with him to help, but he only stared, anger swirling in his eyes like molten lava.

Sam had less control over his emotions. It wasn't difficult to see that he was as terrified as I was. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape.

A string of gibberish had suddenly launched from my lips, unending and nonsensical. My mind tried to clamp down on the speech, but nothing happened. Despite my greatest mental efforts, the string of words barely registered a blip. My heart raced even faster in my chest and the blood pounding in my ears was almost loud enough to drown out my crazy talk.

Suddenly, Eric's face was inches from my own, but it offered no comfort. There was none of the depth or intrigue that I had grown accustomed to seeing in his expression. Instead, I saw only rage. Seething rage. My heartbeat grew faster still. His fingers seemed to be buried down to the bone in my shoulders as he lifted me slightly off the bed even closer to his anger.

"Know this, Demon." His voice was cold and dangerous and managed to silence my blabbering immediately. "Whoever controls you, whatever control you think you have over this human, understand that I will destroy you. I will make you suffer and beg to be released back to the darkness you came from. You, and the one who summoned you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay. I seriously had to write this chapter 5 times to get it right.**

I didn't have time to process the fact that a demon was inhabiting my body because it was not responding well to Eric's threat. It forced me to stare deep into his enraged glare while hurling horrific laughter, jeers, and provocations. It squirmed and fought against him, doing everything in its power to make him hit me. Based on his expression, Eric was already doing all he could to keep his hands to himself.

I _wanted_ Eric to hit me. Maybe that would have been enough to let me be unconscious and away from this whole mess—at least temporarily.

Instead, I was forced to watch in horror as my legs flailed about trying to free themselves from Eric's grip. My mind was screaming to lie still, but nothing happened. It was like I was some kind of perverse stroke victim.

Nothing was mine. The words pouring out of my mouth belonged to someone else; my eyes were subjected to see whatever the presence inside me told them to look at; breath was sucked in and out of my lungs by force; even my heart was beating because something else told it to. In the space of a few short moments, I had become a passenger in my own body.

I took a mental step back from what was going on around me and tried to regroup. How could I fight this? How do you fight something that lives inside you and knows what you're going to think before it even crosses your mind?

The pain of the fight and of being forced to do something I didn't want to faded slightly while I concentrated on gathering my thoughts and on trying to figure a way out of this before anyone got seriously hurt. I took another step back from the mini-battle being waged in the confines of this tiny room, and the sounds of the demon's chiding and its limbs slamming back and forth on the mattress drifted away.

When I saw my hand break out of Eric's grip and smash him across the face, drawing three long gashes along his jaw line, I lost hope. If I had to sit inside my body and watch it hurt people I cared about, then I'd rather be dead. It was too much. Eric roared in anger and slammed my head back against the mattress, a terrifying look in his eyes.

"As you wish," a cold, hard voice—the demon—whispered. I could feel it smiling, pleased at my despair. Then I felt nothing.

It was as if I was a balloon, and someone had cut my string. I was floating away, above the pain and the chaos that smothered me—a bubble breaking to the surface. The past few moments were nothing more than a distant memory.

This was nice.

Vaguely I saw the struggle grow more violent, but I no longer cared. I wasn't a part of it any more. I was free. Eric had to straddle the demon to keep it pinned to the bed while Sam rummaged around in a bureau against the opposite wall. I gave my friends silent encouragement and drifted a little further away.

The view of the room suddenly changed. Instead of looking up at Eric's bloodstained face, I was looking down at the entire room.

I looked around and was shocked to see that I was more than six feet off the ground. When did this happen? I was hovering in the corner near the ceiling watching the events unfold on the small bed below me.

As I floated beneath the ceiling, I tried to get a better view of what was going on, but Eric was too big. The span of his shoulders managed to cover everything worth seeing. I twisted and squirmed and craned to get a better view of who Eric was wrestling with. It couldn't have been me—I was safe and above it all. It _had_ to be someone else.

All I saw was the occasional flash of familiar yellow hair or a flailing limb. I heard a deep voice, which could not have been mine, screaming in frustrated delight as Eric refused to back down.

And then Eric shifted his position, and I saw their face. My face.

It _was_ me in the bed—at least physically. That was _my_ body beneath Eric's fighting so hard that he was actually struggling to keep me pinned down.

Eric had the demon's arms crossed against its chest while it screamed and spat words a lady should never ever hear, let alone speak, in his face. But he said nothing. From the way his muscles rippled across his back, most of Eric's concentration was focused on keeping it still.

While all this was going on, Sam was still digging through the small bureau, looking for something. He eventually emerged victorious with a thick leather belt and ran to help Eric.

"Tie her wrists," Eric commanded, his voice perfectly level despite his exertions. Sam immediately ran to the other side of the bed, and together, they managed to wrap the belt around the demon's wrists and secure them over its head. It didn't look comfortable, but what did I care? I wasn't an occupant of that body anymore.

Even with its hands secured, Eric still had to keep his hands pressed against the demon's shoulders because it still was trying to roll around and cause trouble.

The demon tested the strength of the leather and the wood and was unable to break free. Seeing that it was defeated for the moment, it lay still. The only sound in the room was its heavy wheezing and an occasional groan.

After a few seconds, the demon's head shifted slightly in my direction and blatantly stared at my floating form.

It could see me.

Getting my first good glimpse of the demon's face—my face—a scream immediately ripped through me. Its eyes had rolled all the way back into its head, but instead of seeing the normal white, I saw two orbs redder than blood. And glowing. And staring right at me.

When I screamed, Eric's head whipped in my direction, and I saw his eyes squint into the corner of the ceiling, almost as if he could see me.

Slowly, the demon smiled and began to laugh, never taking its horrific eyes off me, laughing louder all the while. The longer it watched me, the more disconnected I felt—like a breeze had picked up and now was blowing me along. Color drained from the room around me, and the noises began to fade away. Except the laughter; if anything, those cold, ringing, notes were even louder and clearer than before.

The father I drifted, the less I cared. What did it matter at this point anyway? Nothing short of a miracle would give me my body back, and it wasn't like I wanted to be tied to a bed with cramps shooting up my arms and fighting a demon for control. I _wanted_ to be away from it all, so I let myself slip away—it was so much easier this way.

"Sookie," Eric's voice momentarily halted my descent. I forced myself to look at him.

With his arm across the demon's body to keep it from trying anything, Eric's gaze latched onto me like a magnet, really making me question my invisibility. Seeing where Eric was looking, Sam turned in my direction too, though he seemed less sure of my exact location.

"Sookie, the demon is expelling you," he said. "If you don't fight it now, then we've already lost. Your soul will be destroyed."

_That_ got my attention.

"Focus, Sookie." Eric said. "You can do this."

I believed him. His voice was liquid confidence and gave me the strength to lock eyes with the demon's crimson orbs. It had stopped laughing and met my gaze with a force like a brick wall.

"Come on, Sookie," Sam encouraged, moving to stand next to Eric. Both men were frozen, their eyes locked onto my position. I could feel them sending waves of strength and support at me.

They believed in me; I could do this.

No one moved for what seemed like days as I began to will myself back into my body. There was no other way to fight the demon, I was invisible, floating, and more like a ghost than anything else. All I had was my strength of will. I have never been more grateful for the stubbornness passed down to me from Gran.

I prayed it would be enough.

Nothing happened for the longest time. Then, ever so slowly, everything started to come back. Color filtered in, and I could see the blue in Eric's eyes return like sunshine after a rainstorm. Seeing this improvement only doubled my efforts.

My gaze was fused with the demon's; everything else was peripheral. This was one fight I would not lose. I refused to be exorcised from my own body so easily.

The battle of wills continued, and I could feel my presence increase with every passing second. The demon's eyes were not the same red from before. They were duller. Another surge of confidence, and I saw its eyes start to flicker.

That awful tingling from before began deep in my toes, but it was nowhere near enough to distract me. This was one fight I was not going to lose. The tingling deepened and spread up my legs and through the rest of my body.

"Look at her eyes," Sam said, noticing that the demon's eyes were flickering at a steady rate now. Eric didn't respond, but I felt his support.

The tingling was a burning all over my body now, but I was too close to quit. Each time the demon's eyes flickered, I could see my own waiting for me to return. Its eyebrows were creased with effort, straining to lock me out.

A breeze picked up in the room, blowing my hair away from my face. Beneath the breeze, a soft moan grew into a full-out roar. The demon's eyes stretched beyond mortal limits, and its mouth stretched so wide that I was sure the jaw dislocated.

I blinked, and I was back. Myself again.

"Sookie!" Sam exclaimed, getting on his knees next to the bed.

Breath was pouring in and out of my chest like I had just run a marathon, and I felt nauseous, but the burning tingles had disappeared. I was in total control of my body. Even the immobilizing pain from before was gone. I did it; I beat the demon.

"Is it gone?" I asked, thrilled to hear that my voice sounded like me and barely hurt to use.

"For now," Eric reached over me and released my arms, which were still tied over my head. I smiled gratefully and rubbed my wrists where they had been tied.

"What do you mean, 'for now?'"

"I mean he demon will have to recover," he paused, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. "But it will be back. Probably stronger than before."

"It's good to have you back." Sam interrupted, flashing Eric an angry look and coming to my side.

I slowly pulled myself into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard behind me. "It's good to be back," I smiled softly, still processing Eric's warning.

"We thought we lost you there for a minute."

I nodded, and a lump formed in my throat thinking of what could have happened. "You almost did."

"Take your rest, Shifter," Eric said to Sam. "The sun rises soon, and I have some things I need to discuss with Sookie."

Sam looked as if he wanted to argue, but Eric lifted an eyebrow in warning, and Sam's protest fell silent. Instead, he stood over me and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"See you in the morning," he said before leaving the room, making sure to give Eric another angry glare on his way out.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, and Eric sat down on the bed beside me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"My stomach's a little queasy, but other than that, I really do feel better."

"Good," he paused. "Its hold on you will not be as strong for a little while."

"But it's still there," my eyes closed. "Inside me."

"Yes."

At least he didn't sugar coat it.

"How do I get rid of it?" I looked at him, praying that there was some secret potion he had stored away somewhere that would knock this thing right out of me.

"I have arranged for a Shaman to come here within the next day or two."

"And he'll fix me?" Until now, Eric's gaze had been locked onto mine, never faltering, never blinking, but as soon as I asked the question, he looked away. Apparently, the rumpled blankets on the bed were more interesting. "Well?"

"He is our best chance to exorcise the demon," he said, giving the typical politician's evasive answer.

"Eric, look at me," I sat up further and pulled my legs into my body. His eyes flickered up to mine, looking decidedly less confident than I was used to. "Can I beat this?"

"If anyone could defeat a demon, Sookie, it would be you."

When Eric evaded me for the second time, I realized that he was just as clueless as I was. And that terrified me. Deep inside, I felt the cold tangle of fear wind through me like a cold, dead snake.

"Eric, you need to tell me what's going on."

He sighed and brought his hands up to his mouth, folded together in a pensive fist.

"Sookie, by now you have to understand that you're not entirely human," he watched me closely to study my reaction. My jaw dropped a little as my mind struggled to wrap around what he was saying.

"What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously.

"You gift is rare even in the supernatural community. A telepathic human is almost unheard of."

"So because I can read minds, I'm a supernatural?"

"At least in part," was all he said.

I chose just to accept what he said and think about it later. There were more important things to worry about than my supernatural social status. I waited for him to continue.

"I have never heard of someone that was not human being possessed before—"

"And you have no idea how to fix me," I finished for him.

Eric looked at me for a moment before nodding. This was not good news. I put my elbows on my knees and pressed my face into my palms. This latest bit of information pressed down on me with all the weight of the world.

Pity for myself and for this stupid situation washed over me, but I didn't have the strength or the will to cry anymore. It was all pointless. No one knew how to deal with this "unique" situation, and eventually, I was going to be permanently thrown out of my own body by this demon thing and become a weird, pseudo-ghost with telepathic abilities.

"Why is this happening to me?" I mumbled into my hands.

As soon as I'd spoken, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air grew thick and heavy, and I could feel Eric shift uncomfortably on the bed. His response was so quiet that it took me a minute to establish whether or not he had actually spoken.

"Because of me."

My hands fell away from my face and slapped the mattress beneath me. "_What_?"

He looked at me, and I could see that he was struggling to find the right words. "I underestimated Bill and his possessiveness of you."

"You and me both did, so what?" Was he really blaming himself for this?

"We both know that my pursuit of you agitated Bill a great deal, but it was never really anything more than a game between us," he said. I winced a little thinking about how they both used me as a pawn in their stupid vampire politics. "Then, when I gave you my blood, something in him snapped."

"He was a little different after that," I agreed hesitantly. "But still relatively normal."

"No, he had lost control at that point, but hid it well. It wasn't until he followed you to _Fangtasia_ and saw us together that he fell over the edge."

It felt like my mind was working at super-slow speed. I couldn't process what he was telling me.

"Are you saying Bill's insane?"

"More or less."

"And he's the one who summoned this demon because he's jealous?"

Eric nodded.

"Where is he now?" I asked, fearing that I already knew the answer.

"We don't know."

I didn't bother trying to hide the fear that had glazed across me eyes.

"Pam and Chow have both been looking for him for the past two weeks, but so far, no trace of him has been found."

How was that even possible? Bill was so young compared to Eric, there was no way he should have been able to hide from him this long. Millions of questions began to spill out of me faster than Eric could answer. He let me go on for a minute, not bothering to respond to anything before stopping me with a gentle touch on the arm.

"The sun is going to rise soon, and there is one last thing I need to tell you."

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Do you remember what it was I came to talk to Merlotte's to discuss with you?"

I tried to focus, but my mind almost exploded from the effort of trying to piece that night back together. Once again, the only thing I could remember about that night was kissing Eric and wanting to do it again. After a minute, I shook my head.

Eric sighed. "I thought so." He swung his leg up on the side of the bed to face me better before speaking again. "Sookie, I came in that night to tell you goodbye."

My heart stopped, and I swallowed loudly. Wasn't I going through enough? Why did he have to tell me all this right now?

"Once you and Bill separated I had no right to use your gift, and seeing the way Bill reacted in my office when you learned the truth, I thought it best to end my association with you entirely for both our sakes."

"But—"

"I wanted to stay away, but I was still grieving for Godric, and the thought of seeing you alone, without Bill, was too tempting."

I was matching his story up with my own timeline of events, and realization struck me. "That's why you were in the graveyard that night," I said more to myself than to him.

"Correct, and I believe that was also the first night you noticed a presence in your home."

I said nothing. How could I not have put it all together? It really was Bill who did this to me. The tears I had been fighting finally won out and began to spill down my cheeks, while soft sobs built up in my chest.

"Sookie," Eric said, enfolding my right hand with both of his. "Know that I truly regret the pain I have caused you."

He gently brushed a tear away from my face with a light touch that felt like a cool breeze against my skin.

"I promise that once you are released, I will not contact you again. You will be safe."

When he said this, I closed my eyes and cried harder.

"Dawn is here." Gently, he pulled my arms back over his head and tied them to the bedpost with Sam's belt. "I'm sorry to do this when you're still lucid, but if the demon returns during the day, the Shifter won't be strong enough to hold it here."

I didn't fight him.

Eric stood up and, like Sam did earlier, pressed his lips to my forehead. "Be strong."

Knowing that he was going to leave me alone, a devastating urge to feel safe overwhelmed me, and before his touch could leave my skin, I twisted my neck, managing to bring my lips to his. Eric didn't hesitate wrapping me carefully in his strong arms and pulled me as close to him as our awkward position allowed. The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, but after we separated, I could still taste the sweetness of his lips.

He rubbed the side of his face against mine, his cool breath tickling my neck.

"For the past 1,000 years, I have never denied myself anything. Now, I must give up the one thing I want most."

I wasn't sure if he intended for me to hear him because immediately after he spoke, he stood up and left without so much as a glance in my direction and without a chance for me to respond. The door closed softly behind him, leaving me alone with too much to think about.

**So I'm worried that Eric seems a little OOC in this chapter and thought I would explain some of my reasoning. Feel free to argue, or agree, or give your own opinion: **

**Eric, as I understand him, definitely feels **_**something**_** for Sookie (check out the clips of him and Sophie Anne discussing her on Youtube), which is how I've been writing him. Until Godric's death, it was more of a cat-and-mouse game with him, and he never really considered the consequences of his actions. When he understands that Sookie has been attacked because of what he's done he automatically feels responsible for saving her, and he feels extremely guilty (because he hurt the one human who really "gets" him) so to keep her safe, he has to give her up because he thinks that's what she really wants and that it's the only way to 100% guarantee her safety. **

**I don't know, I just thought it would be an interesting conflict to explore. **

**Also, I'm making up my own demonology as I go, so my apologies to anyone who actually knows about this stuff. I'm sure I've butchered it beyond recognition.  
**

**Lastly, thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews and support. They're the highlight of my day!**


	8. Chapter 8

**IMPORTANT: I edited Chapter 6 to include Sam telling Sookie that Eric had given her his blood when they rescued her from her house. She would have died otherwise. This will probably be important later on in the story.**

Well, what the hell? After a few hours of reflection, I decided that I was going to be angry about this. Only Eric would say something like that and then leave before a girl could process his little anecdote. I may have been possessed with a demon and tied to a bed, but I was still in my right mind and had more than enough time to sift through the array of feelings that were threatening to overwhelm me. Right now, on top of the anger, I was feeling confused. Why would Eric of all people—King of spoiled, manipulative brats—ever willingly give something he wanted up? And why did I care?

I had no delusions that he was doing this for me. Eric personified was one-thousand years' worth of self-gratification. Giving me up must have outweighed anything I could offer him; it had to be in his best interests to let me go. But if that was the case, then why was he going through all this trouble to help me?

It didn't make any sense.

This was ridiculous. Even with a demon, which was summoned by my missing exboyfriend, trying to destroy me, I was thinking about Eric, and how deep down, I knew the devastation I felt after learning the truth about Bill would be nothing compared to what I would feel if I never saw Eric again. Through it all, the deceitful bastard trying to get in my pants was more loyal and honest than I could have imagined. At least he was up front about his intentions for me. Not like Bill. And, blood consumption aside, I was starting to wonder if he wouldn't eventually get exactly what he wanted—assuming that I survived this mess and that Eric was only kidding about getting rid of me, that is.

I sighed in frustration and leaned back against Sam's headboard with a thud. After everything that happened, I was back where I started in Dallas, with my thoughts running circles around that complicated Viking. My arms were hanging loosely over my head, entwined with the thick leather of the belt wrapped around the pole running between the two bedposts. I wiggled around a little bit to try and keep my arms from getting too numb or too cramped.

Frustration started to flare the longer I sat there alone with my thoughts. I needed to stop dwelling. There were far more important things to focus on than whether I was going to give it up for Eric because he stuck with me through the demonic possession chapter of my life. Time to rein it in and get to work.

Eric mentioned bringing in a shaman for the exorcism. I vaguely wondered if that meant some kind of witch doctor with bones in his nose and a grass skirt was going to light some incense and do a ritualistic dance around the bed, but for some reason, I did not think that would be the case. Tribal rituals were not Eric's style.

Before my thoughts could give into Eric's gravitational pull for the millionth time that morning, a light knock on the door stole my attention.

"Come in," I said, trying to not feel too much like a fool with my arms tied over my head. Sam entered with a smile and a plate of food in his hands.

"Thought you might be hungry," he said, placing himself on the chair next to the bed. As soon as he mentioned the prospect of food, my stomach growled. I was ravenous.

"I'm starving!" I exclaimed, staring hungrily at the generous portions of oatmeal, bacon, and eggs Sam had prepared—a true breakfast of champions.

"I'm not surprised," Sam said. "It's been awhile since you ate anything solid."

I had absolutely no trouble believing that. My stomach growled again, louder this time, prompting Sam to scrape up some of the scrambled eggs onto a fork and lift them to my waiting mouth. The eggs melted on my tongue like butter, and I moaned as if I was tasting sweet nectar direct from the gods.

Sam chuckled but said nothing as he continued feeding me until every last morsel of food was gone. After the last bite, I smiled and leaned back.

"Thank you, Sam. You have no idea how good that was."

"I'm glad you liked it," he replied. "Eric said you were going to need your strength for later, so I thought I'd feed you while I had the chance."

I nodded but said nothing.

"I guess the shaman is going to be here sometime tonight."

And we're back to business.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" I asked Sam, hoping he would ignore the slight quiver in my voice.

"Yeah, it is," he said. "But Eric's right, you can beat this."

Eric was not a topic I wanted to discuss right now, especially not with Sam, so I maneuvered the conversation into _slightly_ more comfortable territory. "What's it going to be like?

Sam hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

"I don't know, cher," his eyes met mine and displayed all the nerves that I was feeling. "But I do know that Eric pulled some strings and got the most powerful shaman in the hemisphere. You're in good hands."

Of course he did. I wanted to laugh but was too tired and scared to attempt it, so I settled for a heavy sigh.

"Well, I guess that's good news," I said more than a little sullenly. Sam would have to forgive me; it was a little difficult for me to muster up any excitement over being exorcized by a really good shaman.

"Yeah, well, we don't have to worry about that for another few hours," Sam said, clearly picking up on my mood. "Let's talk about something else for awhile."

I smiled. "That sounds like a fantastic idea." I didn't hesitate diving right in. "How's Merlotte's?"

"Oh, you know, the usual." Sam replied. "A couple people have been asking about you."

"_Really_?" I never had many friends, so I was surprised to hear that anyone even picked up that I was missing. But then again, I had been locked in this room for the past two weeks. _Someone_ must have noticed I was gone.

"What'd you tell them?" I asked, preparing myself for some kind of colorful excuse.

"I just told everyone you were having some personal issues and needed to get away for a few weeks."

So much for colorful. It wasn't exactly a lie. But nothing like the elaborate story to further divert my thoughts that I was hoping for either.

"And everyone bought that?"

Sam shook his head. "Tara didn't. She knew you wouldn't go anywhere without at least mentioning it to her."

"She's right," I agreed. "So what did you tell her?"

"Well, after your little scene with Eric, she thinks he kidnapped you."

"_What_?" I exclaimed, taken completely off-guard.

"Yeah. She saw you and Eric talking, and she knew you'd had a little bit to drink. Then she saw you leave with him. Next thing she knows, you disappeared," Sam explained. "It's not a huge leap."

He had a point.

"What did you tell her?" I asked again.

Sam shrugged slightly. "I just said that I'd talked to you a couple times and that I knew you were safe,"

"And she was okay with that?"

"No way," Sam laughed a little. "She kept trying to file a missing-person case with Andy. That was when Eric bought round-trip tickets in your name to Florida, so we had receipts to show the cops you were okay."

"Wow," I stared straight ahead trying to wrap my head around the situation while trying to avoid thinking of how much experience covering for missing people Eric had collected in his long life. I wasn't going to even touch the question of what they would tell everyone if everything didn't go to plan, and I ended up six feet under.

"Yeah, well that made Tara back down a little. She's none too happy with you for leaving without telling her though." He paused before adding, "Sorry about that."

I smiled slightly. As much as I loved her, Tara's anger was low on my list of priorities right now.

Sam and I didn't speak after that for a while, which was probably for the best. No matter what we talked about would always turn back to my situation or to Eric. Neither was a very appealing discussion topic right now.

"Do you want me to read to you?" Sam asked after we sat in silence for a good twenty minutes.

Figuring that listening to a story would be a good distraction from the rest of my thoughts, I agreed.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Surprise me."

"I'll be right back," he replied after a moment of thought and left the room. Less than a minute later, he retuned with a somewhat worn paperback clasped in his hand. "Alice in Wonderland," he explained, holding it up so I could see it. "Have you read it?"

I told him that I hadn't and made myself comfortable to listen to Sam's story, which was a far cry from the romances and mysteries I was so used to reading. While I'm sure I missed most of the symbolism that Lewis Caroll intended, I couldn't help but feel for Alice stumbling into a world she never knew existed, full of impossible creatures and people, with no way to get back home. Boy, could I relate.

Sam only stopped reading once to make us each a sandwich, and by the time Eric arrived, we were already almost to the end.

"We'll finish this tomorrow, cher," Sam said when Eric entered, wearing his typical casual attire of a t-shirt, sweatpants, and flip-flops. Sam closed the book and laid it on top of his dresser, before Eric promptly picked it up and flipped through the pages.

"Ah, Alice in Wonderland, how appropriate," he said with a smirk.

"No kidding," I replied, while Sam just shrugged.

"And how are we feeling today, Sookie?" Eric asked leaning over me to release my hands. As soon as they were free, I began to rub some feeling back into my wrists, which had gone irrevocably numb right around the time Alice fell down the rabbit hole.

"So far, so good."

"Where's the shaman?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his chair, with his elbows bent across his denim-covered knees.

"Waiting outside," Eric replied.

I felt the blood fall out of my face and pool in my stomach with the knowledge that this was really going to happen tonight. Fear started to creep through my veins like a spider prowling for smaller bugs to eat.

"Sookie," Eric began. "The shaman is going to be here in a few minutes, and he asked me to make sure you understand that the demon is not going to like his presence."

"Oh, God—"

"But you're going to have to fight it. He needs to talk to you before he can start the exorcism. Can you do that?"

I swallowed loudly and nodded, suddenly all too aware that it wasn't fear creeping through my veins. It was my little passenger.

"Good," his reply was curt and sounded like he had just made arrangements for a rental car, or something else just as mundane. It was too business-like for comfort. "I will bring him in."

Eric left the room briskly, leaving Sam and I alone.

"It's going to be okay, Sook," Sam tried to comfort me. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."

I didn't respond as I began to gather all the mental strength and will power I could find. Lord knew I was going to need it. I could feel the darkness slowly spread itself a little further in my body. My heart started to pound.

Distant footsteps reached my ears as I heard Eric enter the trailer with the shaman and make their way toward the bedroom. Breathing was a little more difficult, but other than that, I didn't feel too out of control. The demon was there, but it was only copilot right now.

Eric entered first, swiftly and smoothly as always, and he was followed by a much smaller, but equally graceful man, who I assumed was the shaman—though if I had met him on the street, I would have never thought he would possess any sort of supernatural qualities. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and was almost a foot shorter than Eric, wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans. His hair was long, and mouse-brown, and pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. He reminded me of one of those 1960s beat-poets from New York City. Despite his warm smile and kind eyes, seething hatred raged through me the moment we locked eyes.

Eric ignored my anger and introduced us as if we were all meeting up in a bar for a drink.

"Sookie, this is Peter, he will be performing your exorcism this evening."

I was brought up to acknowledge such an introduction with "Pleased to meet you," or something to that effect, but it was all I could do to not spit in the shaman's face. Luckily, Peter picked up the social-etiquette slack for me.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Stackhouse," he said pleasantly. If I were in my right mind, I would have found his voice to be quite soothing and relaxing. "You have nothing to worry about, these two gentleman and I are going to take care of everything."

While Peter spoke, Sam stood up from the chair next to the bed and went to stand next to Eric against the wall. Peter immediately sat down in the vacated seat and gave me a once over. I swear I felt my skin burn wherever his gaze fell.

I looked behind him at Eric who was glowering at both of us with his hands clasped behind his back. Sam was doing his best to look confident, but I could see a little twinge of fear in his eyes.

"Now, Sookie," Peter said, clapping his hands softly and scooting a little closer toward the bed. "Do you subscribe to any kind of faith?"

My eyes narrowed at him and I felt the urge to rip his vocal cords out with my fingers, but I managed to nod.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly, apparently unaware of my growing need to destroy him. "Which one?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Great. This was too familiar.

"She's Baptist," Sam said, speaking up for me. Thank God for Sam.

"_Very_ good," Peter said and turned to nod his appreciation for Sam's assistance. "Ever since that Exorcist movie came out in the seventies, I've performed more successful Christian exorcisms than any other faith. I'm not sure why that is, though."

Eric cleared his throat, warning Peter to get back on topic.

"Regardless, I've had plenty of experience with these rituals, and I don't anticipate any difficulties," he said, patting the air as if he were soothing an agitated animal. I noticed that Peter liked to talk with his hands. Almost everything he said was accompanied with a dramatic flourish of hand or finger.

Peter turned away from me for a second and dug around in a bag next to his feet, emerging with a pair of thick black glasses and a small pad of paper.

"Now, this vampire here tells me that you had an unusual experience yesterday," he said flipping through his notes. "What happened exactly?"

Quickly remembering that I couldn't speak, Peter quickly turned to Sam and repeated the question.

"Well, I guess the demon managed to force her out of her body, but she uh, somehow managed to get herself back in, and she's been pretty normal since. Well, up 'til now anyway," Sam so eloquently explained.

"Interesting." Peter said, looking back at me with curiosity etched in his face. "That's very interesting. She's human?" he asked with that tone of someone who already knows the answer to the question they're asking.

"Well, uh…" Sam hesitated, looking to Eric to see whether it was okay to tell Peter that I was a telepath.

"She's telepathic." Eric stepped up and explained.

Peter turned back to me with wide eyes. "That _is_ interesting."

A wave of nausea washed over me, threatening to dispel all the food I had eaten that day, but I forced it down and forced myself to pay attention to Peter, who now was looking at me with even more intrigue.

"Did you just keep the demon from taking control?" His voice was full of disbelief while his hand covered his mouth, which was open with shock.

I nodded, feeling considerably weaker than I did a few moments earlier.

"Well, Ms. Stackhouse, I'm not going to lie to you." Peter said, suddenly getting down to business and scribbling something in his notebook. "I've never done an exorcism on someone with supernatural abilities, and as far as I know, no such cases have been documented. However, I have a ninety-six percent success rate, and it would seem that your... _ability_ can only aid in the process."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eric's lips twitch as a brief smile flickered across is face. Apparently, he thought this was good news. I wasn't so sure.

"Now, I am going to take some preliminary measurements to see how strong this demon is. Try to lie still."

Peter closed his eyes, and I did my best to relax my body so he could get accurate measurements—of what, I had no idea. His hands hovered over my body, and I felt a gentle warmth spill from them onto me. The demon was fighting to bubble up to the surface, and I knew that it wanted to use my hand to swipe Peter across the face.

He opened his eyes and stared at me, with shock evident on his face. "Just incredible."

I'm glad I amused him.

"What did you find out?" Eric asked.

"This demon is strong," Peter replied. "One of the strongest I've encountered in my career, but Ms. Stackhouse here is giving it a run for its money. It definitely bit off more than it could chew with you, sweetie," he chuckled like he just relayed a cute story about a new trick his dog had learned.

"Now, Ms. Stackhouse," he continued. "When the exorcism begins, I need you to focus on your God with everything you're worth and try to force the demon out." As he spoke, Peter made small punching motions with his arms to punctuate and emphasize his words.

"Let the demon do whatever it wants with your body, and focus all your energy to fight with your mind. Our friend here will keep you restrained," he said gesturing toward Eric with his eyes.

I nodded, trying to ignore the tennis-ball sized fear rolling down my throat.

"Excellent," Peter smiled, his eyes bright with the anticipation of what was to come. I couldn't help but wonder if this was fun for him. "Let's get started."

As soon as those last words left his mouth, the air evaporated from my lungs, and all hell broke loose.

**A MAJOR thank you to AmaZen for all her demonology expertise and advice! **

**And another MAJOR thank you to all who are reading. **

**And a MAJOR apology for the length of time between updates. Life is ridiculous right now. **

**I'm actually working on a rather citrusy one shot featuring a certain Viking and a certain telepath to make up for my lack of other updates. So be on the lookout for that : )**


	9. Chapter 9

**Quick note about my version of exorcisms (I'm aware I'm taking a lot of liberties here, so my apologies if that offends you):**

**Basically, Peter is the modern-day equivalent of a prophet; he's the "middle man" between this world and the next one, which is why he's a shaman. All religions and faiths report back to this one realm or dimension, or whatever you want to call it, which is why he uses symbols from one religion, then tells Sookie to call on another. When he does exorcisms, he uses symbols and such from all different cultures because they all call on the same essence and they all have varying levels of power.**

**His goal in an exorcism is to discover the name of the demon. To name something is to own it, so if he discovers the demon's true name, he owns it and can control it. **

**I'm exhausted, so hopefully that makes sense, if not, feel free to ask any questions as you see fit.**

Since Peter had told me to not fight the demon, I didn't try to stop it when it forced me to shoot up in the bed like some kind of freakish jack-in-the-box. I could feel its amusement and a steel determination spread through my limbs as it turned and stared at each person in the room, sizing them up, before its gaze latched onto Peter. Seeing that I was no longer in control, Eric stepped forward with Sam's belt in hand to restrain its arms like before, but Peter stopped him.

"Not a good idea."

Eric responded with a look that made it very clear he was not accustomed to being told that any of his decisions weren't smart by anyone, especially a human, regardless of skill sets.

"Unless you would like to watch the demon rip Ms. Stackhouse's arms from her body, do not tie her up," Peter explained. "I've performed exorcisms where demons, like this one, were so violent and so angry that when they thrashed against their restraints, the victim's arms and legs were ripped from their sockets."

Eric dropped the belt.

"What I meant when I said you would be restraining her was that you would physically be holding her down, not tying her up," Peter gestured toward the bed with one arm, as if he were inviting Eric to do as he was told.

Sparing another irate expression, Eric sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard behind me. All through their exchange, the demon had its eyes fixed on Peter and appeared to not notice when Eric slid his legs around its own and anchored them just below the knee. He then placed one hand across the demon's chest, pinning its arms to its side, and wrapped the other around its forehead, which he pinned against his shoulder.

I would have liked to see the demon try anything in that stronghold.

"Excellent," Peter smiled cheerily after Eric got situated then turned to Sam. "Now, I need you to bring me a glass of water."

Sam didn't question the demand; he only nodded and left the room to get what was requested. Meanwhile, Eric had become a statue encompassing the demon. He hadn't stirred once since freezing into the current position, and I sensed the demon's growing anxiety from being confined so effectively.

Good.

"You know what to do if things go wrong?" Peter asked Eric after Sam had left the room.

"Yes," he nodded once.

If I could have, I would have been obligated to ask what Eric was expected to do if things went wrong, but a part of me was glad I couldn't. I didn't want to know anything about that subject.

Peter looked grim for a second, as if all the possibilities of what could go wrong flickered through his mind, then forced a smile and moved right on down the line to me.

"Now, Sookie, I know you can hear me," he began. "I'm not going to lie, this is going to be excruciating. But if we can discover the demon's true name and find out exactly who is possessing you, we'll be able to control it and can end it all then."

The demon snarled in response as if to say that it would take months before it gave up any such information, and in the back of my mind, I wondered if Peter should be speaking so candidly about the goals of the impending exorcism while the demon could listen in so easily. But he was the expert. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

"I want you to focus on your God and your faith," Peter continued. "I will be using symbols and rituals unfamiliar to you during the exorcism, but so long as you have faith in Jesus, or Vishna, or whomever you choose, it will all work out. All religions come from the same place."

The demon's lipped curled in another angry snarl, but Peter ignored it.

After Sam returned with the water, Peter thanked him and took the glass and murmured some words into it. Although I couldn't hear what was being said, I felt a prickle roll down the back of the demon's spine. Peter then stuck his index finger into the water and began to slowly wind it around the rim of the glass as if he were creating a mini-whirlpool. The demon's eyes latched onto that glass of water, and a low rumble erupted from its throat, which prompted Eric's arms to grasp tighter.

"Thank you, Sam." Peter said after a few moments. "You can wait outside. Whatever you hear, don't come in. One of us will retrieve you when it's over."

Sam looked as if he wanted to protest, but a withering glare from Eric and a frown from Peter changed his mind. He backed out of the room, making sure to give me a small smile of encouragement before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Once Sam left, Peter returned his attention to the task at hand. As I watched, the water in the glass seemed to take on a life of its own. Peter's finger was still moving at its original slow pace, but the water was swirling much faster, and one of those water cyclones really did form. It looked like he was holding a mini-tornado in the glass.

"The symbol of Ra," Peter explained. "When you look down at the glass, you see a circle with a hole in the center—a reincarnation of the ancient symbol of light. This will help counteract the darkness."

The demon did _not_ like that and let everyone know with a loud roar and strong jerk against the confines of Eric's arms.

Satisfied with the results of his little charm, Peter approached the bed seemingly undeterred by the demon's outrage. Even though his finger was no longer propelling the whirlpool within the glass, I could see that the clear liquid was still swirling faster than ever and seemed to be emitting its own light.

This time, Peter stuck his thumb into the water for a few seconds before placing it on my forehead where he drew that same symbol of Ra. The liquid burned like acid, and both the demon and I let out cries of pain and surprise. It twisted in Eric's arms, trying to get away from the throbbing touch.

Once the symbol had been imprinted, Peter carefully set the glowing glass of cyclonic water on the bureau behind him, closed his eyes, and raised his hands over me like he had done earlier to measure the strength of the demon. Instead of the gentle warmth I felt the last time, searing heat fell from his hands onto me, almost like he was dumping pails of molten lava all over my body. I tried to yell out but was refused access to my vocal cords and had to settle for the angry cries of the demon to release my agony.

Eric hissed as it thrashed in his arms, fighting to be free of him, but he didn't let go.

"Whom am I speaking to?" Peter demanded, his previously soothing voice picking up a tone of power and intimidation. His hands were still raised over my body, and the agonizing heat only increased as he spoke.

The demon roared in response but refused to give up any information so easily. Remembering Peter's words to focus my will power, I decided to try to force the demon to respond.

After some effort I managed hear through its anguished cries and deciphered its response. "I am the one who dwells within." Its voice filled the room like an angry howl.

"In the name of the Realm of Light and those who reside there, I command you to give me your name," Peter's eyes were locked with the demon's, and his hands were still immobile above its body, despite the anger radiating from it.

The demon roared again, rage instead of pain spewing from its mouth.

"In the name of the Realm of Light and those who reside there, I command you to give me your name," Peter repeated, his voice more set in his mission than ever before.

Growing up, I had never been an overly religious person; I had always believed in God, of course, but I was never inclined to believe that he had any say over what we happened in our lives. Our lives were our own, and if we did well, we were rewarded, but none of that stopped me from offering up a quick prayer that God would make an exception and intervene, bringing this excruciating ordeal to a swift conclusion and ensuring that no one would be hurt.

Peter's enchanted glass of water suddenly tipped over on the bureau, interrupting my prayer, and I was shocked to see that none of the water had spilled. I could even make out the small cyclone still spinning in the center of the glass.

Inside, the demon was writhing in pain, which sent a surge of hope racing through me. We were actually going to do this; I would be free tonight! The knowledge of impending success strengthened my fortitude, and I endured the fire that continued to spill forth from Peter's hands with a new resolve while throwing my own mental weight into the mix.

"I am one of the three who have always been!" the demon cried out, the compulsion to give into Peter's commands defeating its desire to remain silent.

"Give me your name, demon!"

As quickly as my confidence set in, it was wiped away when I sensed an energy gathering in my center like a tight little ball. The demon ignored Peter's order to relinquish its name—not without difficulty—and focused instead on that collected energy. Mentally, I tried to diffuse the psychological bomb about to go off, but the demon quickly and effectively shut me out of that section of my brain. The more I fought against its control the more I sensed the energy grow. Dread of what was inevitably about to happen set in the pit of my stomach like a lead plate. I wanted to close my eyes and shut everything out, but demon wouldn't let me. It took pleasure in my fear, and it intentionally drew out the anticipation before it attacked.

"I ask again, in the name of the Realm of Light, what is your name?"

No sooner had Peter finished speaking were he and Eric each blown hard against adjacent walls by the force of the energy ball that the demon released from within me. The instant it was free from its bonds, the demon began to float off the bed, away from the two men attempting to evict it from my body. Eric recovered first and quickly managed to grab onto an ankle. His touch burned as badly as Peter's hands, causing the demon to thrash the moment Eric's fingers latched onto its skin.

Undeterred, Peter slowly pulled himself up and smoothed his hair back from his face. A small trickle of blood was leaking from a gash on his cheek, but other than that, he appeared unhurt. He didn't seem surprised to see the demon levitating several feet off the bed and began chanting something too low for me to hear. As I watched his lips move nimbly across difficult words, I felt the demon's power weaken, and it began to descend back toward the bed.

As soon as it was within reach, Eric easily managed to wrap the rest of his body around the demon's exactly as he had before the explosion. And just like that, we were back to status quo.

Once we were settled, I saw Peter take a deep breath. Then, seeing the overturned glass, he quickly crossed the room and righted the glowing liquid still lost in its own quiet rotation on the bureau. The demon twitched in fear.

"If something happens to me," Peter said to Eric. "Make sure she drinks it. All of it." A cold rod of fear replaced my spine.

I felt Eric nod once behind me before tightening his grip on the demon's arms and legs.

After the agreement was made, Peter returned to his post next to the bed and raised his hands for the second time. The heat poured forth instantly, scalding both the demon and me as we writhed in mutual agony against Eric's human constraints.

Not missing a beat, Peter picked up right where he left off as if he hadn't just been hurled against the far wall by an unseen force.

"In the name of the Realm of Light and those who reside there, I command you to give me your name."

The demon shrieked in frustration, more determined than ever to keep its identity a secret.

As Peter continued with his spiritual torture, I gradually became aware of something stirring in the bowels of my mind. This mischief wasn't like before when the demon gathered my energy to use like a psychic snowball; this was actually having an effect on my mental strength, which was now draining out of me at a dangerous rate—almost like something was siphoning me off like a human gas tank. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flicker in the far corner of the room but couldn't quite make it out. It looked almost like the shadow of a human figure darting past. I tried to clamp down on that part of my mind the demon was sifting through to create the shadow, but the demon easily brushed my considerably weakened effort aside.

Peter repeated his commands, but the demon had stopped paying him any attention. Each time Peter spoke, I saw the shadow figure dart across in the corner darker and clearer than before, despite my efforts to tie off the leaking gas in my mental engine. After this cycle had continued for a few rounds, the figure finally solidified and became as black as night. I knew that I must have been the only one who could see the figure because neither Peter nor Eric had said anything about the newest fixture in Sam's bedroom; nor did their gazes didn't so much as twitch in its direction. The demon had continued to siphon my energy from within that dark corner of my brain, and I felt myself slip a little further into its control.

As the shadow grew in strength, I saw it take the shape of a tall, thin, man, towering well above seven feet. My mind gave way a little further, and I felt another wave of energy flood out of me in the direction of the figure, which promptly took a step toward the center of the room.

Sweat was pouring down Peter's face despite the cold air in the room. From my position in the bed, I could see the flesh on his face quivering with the mental strain he was exerting to extract answers.

"What do you want with this girl?" he asked, changing his approach.

"Suffer," it shrieked, delighted for the opportunity to answer a question it wanted to be asked. "Revenge."

"Who summoned you?" Peter's voice had risen to a yell from the force required of him to draw a response.

I watched in horror as I saw the figure in the corner take another step toward Peter, who was still oblivious.

Drawing on the few mental resources I had left, I immediately directed all my focus to keep the creature at bay, but no matter how much I tried to gather some mental strength, I couldn't hold my concentration. All of it was being channeled to create the ominous figure approaching in the rapidly shrinking background.

It was winning. I was helpless against this force; the demon seemed to have endless resources to counter every one of Peter's attacks.

_Please, God, help me…_

"Your God cannot help you now," the demon spoke aloud in response to my mental plea.

Peter and Eric locked eyes for a moment, and I thought I saw a glimmer of fear in Peter's face. Eric's arms pulled my body tighter against him, and in my ear, I heard his soft whisper offering up an ancient Nordic prayer on my behalf.

Instead of recoiling against Eric's support, the demon laughed, enjoying his attempt to pick up the fight where I could not.

The shadow figure took yet another step toward Peter. Its only discernible features were two glowing red eyes, and they were fixed on the shaman with murderous intent clear in its gaze.

Peter continued to appear ignorant of the grave danger so close by and maintained his interrogation. Concentration was chiseled in every line on his face as he attacked the demon with an unbreakable will. By now, the heat pouring off his hands was so great that it felt like I was being scalped all over my body. Cell by cell, Peter was pulling the demon out of me, whether he had its name or not.

I tried to see if my ability would work against the demon and peered into its mind—or its essence, since it actually was sharing my mind—and received a piercing signal that struck the nerve endings in my teeth. The pain only stopped after I had retreated back into my head, tail tucked between my legs.

The shadow creature took another step toward Peter.

"_In the name of the Realm of Light and those who reside there, what is your name_?" Peter bellowed loud enough to shake the walls.

The demon released a shrill cry and thrashed more violently than ever against Eric's constraints, begging for any kind of release from the pain. Its back was arched beyond its normal capacity, and Eric had to adjust his hold on my body to avoid dislocating my arms.

Then suddenly it went limp.

"Is it over?" I heard myself asking in a perfect imitation of my voice. "What happened?"

The demon was using my own voice, pretending that it had been removed, while I watched in horror as the shadow creature took another two steps toward Peter, who was now easily within its reach.

When Eric heard my voice, he immediately began to disentangle himself before Peter stopped him.

"Don't." Peter said, his hands still held high above my body, continuing to burn it with the force of his will. "It's a trick."

Eric didn't argue or question and immediately imprisoned the demon against him as if he'd never let go. The demon argued with him, trying to convince him that I was myself again.

"Eric, it's me," it exclaimed, struggling lightly against him. "The demon's gone. You can let go now."

Inside, I was screaming at the top of my lungs that it was all a trick. The real danger was cloaked in shadow and standing right next to Peter with its arm hovering over his chest. I wanted to jump up and down, slap both of them in their faces, do anything to make them see, but all I could do was lie there and watch as my body pretended to be me.

"In the name of the Realm of the Light and all those who reside there," Peter began, ignoring the demon's pleas that I really was myself and once again. "I command you to tell me your name." The determination and resilience in those last words were the equivalent of a wrecking ball swinging into a straw hut. Nothing could refuse to bend to his will.

I watched in horror as the shadow figure plunged its long, sinewy arm deep into Peter's chest, directly above his heart. He jerked immediately and fell to his knees, unable to escape the figure's icy grip. Shock masked his face, which was agape with the effort to stay alive. A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body, and I knew then that the demon was using the last of my energy to crush the life out of the shaman's heart.

Before the light completely left Peter's eyes, a phantom breeze picked up in the room and carried with it the name "Lempo," whispered as quietly as a feather floating to the ground. Selfishly, I hoped that the name was audible and not something I heard only in my head.

The shadow figure dissipated the moment Peter's eyes glazed over as they glimpsed into the next life. His body looked smaller and meeker than ever, curled up in a fetal position at the foot of the bed, revealing none of the strength and stamina he had possessed in spades mere seconds before. I wanted to cry for him, I wanted to thank him for trying, I wanted to apologize for failing him. I wanted to do a lot of things, but I couldn't.

Peter was dead. The exorcism was incomplete. And the demon laughed—a deep, throaty, chuckle of victory.


	10. Chapter 10

***Warning* Short scene of animal abuse within. It's not very descriptive, but it is there. I actually cried when I wrote it, but it had to be done...**

When full minutes went by without a reaction from Eric, it became clear that he hadn't heard the name the demon had revealed right before it ripped the life from Peter's body, which was still lying crumpled at the end of the bed. I was stuck. Really stuck.

The demon—Lempo—was still laughing softly at its apparent victory while I was breaking down inside. There was no hope now. With Peter dead, my body belonged to the demon for as long as it wanted. Maybe death would release me. Maybe if Eric squeezed me until my heart stopped, I would be free.

Then again, maybe not. The way my luck had been going, I wouldn't die unless Lempo wanted me to—or some stupid supernatural rule like that.

I don't know how long it took before Eric came back to life and took control, but he was keeping the faint flicker of hope alive within me. The thought that Peter might have planned for something like this glimmered through my mind, and I clung to it with the little strength I had left.

"Sam!" he shouted. I was not so distracted by my plight to not notice that Eric had used Sam's actual name rather than referring to him as "Shifter, as he was apt to. Peter's unexpected demise seemed to have shaken him up a little.

Sam must have been waiting just outside the door because he burst into the room almost the instant Eric called for him. When he saw Peter's body lying, still, at the end of the bed, he stopped and his hands instinctively shot up and gripped his rumpled hair.

"What happened?" his eyes were wide with shock and fear as he took in the dead shaman on the floor and his possessed employee pinned to the bed by the Area's Vampire sheriff.

"Get the glass on the bureau," Eric instructed, ignoring his question. "She needs to drink it."

Of course, the spell Peter had used earlier! The stress of the last few minutes had made me completely forget that there even _was _a plan B—God bless Peter.

Sam shook himself back into reality and followed Eric's orders, gingerly stepping over the lifeless body at the foot of the bed and grabbing the elixir, which now was glowing brighter than ever.

Eric adjusted his hold on the demon's body, roughly gripping its jaw with a firm hand and tilting its head back; Lempo was poised for the deployment of Peter's last spell. It began to struggle as it watched Sam approach the bedside, thrashing in Eric's arms but it was no match for the powerful hold he had on its body. I could feel the panic in the demon as it struggled to find a way of the situation, and I wanted to make sure it felt how much I enjoyed its fear. Like it or not, that cool drink of water was going down the hatch.

Sam hesitated with the glass poised over the demon's face, worry etched into his expression.

"She needs to drink all of it," Eric said, but Sam still had yet to move; the fear was evident in his eyes. I wanted to reassure him that it was going to be alright, that this would bring me back, but unsurprisingly, I was as frozen as the demon. "_Now_," he growled.

Jumping at Eric's harsh tone, Sam carefully raised the glass to Lempo's lips and began to pour the lustrous liquid down its throat.

Immediately, I felt a ringing begin deep in my chest, just above my heart. It began to spread further the more the liquid entered my system. The sensation was actually pleasant—a welcome contrast to most of the sensations I'd been forced to endure lately. It was warm and soothing, like walking into sunshine after being stuck inside a heavily air conditioned building for too long.

The demon was thrashing and reeling inwardly, and I felt its power over me start to weaken. Control was slipping into my favor from the bottom up. It wasn't long before I could wiggle my toes voluntarily, then my ankles, then my up to me knees. Eventually everything from the waist down was mine to control, and it was still spreading.

My heart was racing with anticipation; this was my chance to end it all. As soon as I could speak I would tell them the demon's name, and it would all be over. Sam needed to hurry. "Pour faster," I wanted to tell him, but that part of me still belonged to the demon.

The glass was more than half gone now and emptying more every second. Inside, the demon was howling in agony; I could picture it crouched in the fetal position in a corner of my mind, clutching its head to keep the soothing tones of the ringing at bay.

Finally, Sam tilted the glass at a right angle and poured the rest of the elixir down my throat. The instant the last drop hit my tongue, what sounded like a loud rap of thunder in the center of the room struck with the force of a mighty storm. The demon screamed in anguish, completely relinquishing its hold on my body, and I was myself again—at least for the moment.

"Its name is Lempo!" I shouted the second I was released. Already, the reverberations of the thunder were fading, and I could sense the demon slipping back into control. No matter, the damage was done. I'd said what I needed to, and now it was only a matter of time.

I didn't know what I expected when I announced the demon's name, but it definitely wasn't Eric's harsh squeeze on my already bruised body. For just a second, the breath was crushed from my body, and blackness crawled into the edges of my vision as I realized just how much he was holding back as he kept my body pinned. I thought he would at least have relaxed when I told him the demon's name, but instead, he flinched. Another bad sign.

Sam looked back and forth between me and Eric, waiting for some sign of what came next.

"What now?" he asked, when it was clear no one was going to explain the process to him.

Behind me, Eric was shaking with some kind of suppressed emotion, and I could feel the demon gradually slipping back into control. The echoes of the thunder had faded to a distant grumble, and I slipped further and further away.

"_Eric_!" Sam pressed. "What do we do now?"

When the sound had disappeared completely and the demon was in full control again, Eric spoke so quietly that I was shocked I could even pick it up at all.

"Demon, I brand you . . . Lempo, and I declare that you now are under my command."

The transition of control was swift and painless, thankfully. It seemed as if the demon was as anxious for its suffering to end as much as I was.

"Yes, master," Lempo croaked with the ambiguous voice of someone ancient; it might have been either male or female, I couldn't tell.

"Lie still and do not hurt the girl," Eric instructed and slowly disentangled his body from mine and stood at the end of the bed. When I saw his expression, a steel rod of panic replaced my backbone, and even if a demon hadn't been in control of my body, I would have froze. So much uncontrolled rage, and hostility, and something else I couldn't identify was radiating from him; I had never seen such turmoil before in anyone.

"Eric, what's wrong?" Sam asked. Apparently I wasn't the only one who noticed his strange expression.

"Be silent, Shifter," Eric hissed. "This no longer concerns you."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue—deciding to bide his time, I guess.

"Lempo," Eric began, his voice tinged with threat. "who commanded you to attack this girl?"

"Your queen, Sophie-Anne," Lempo responded quickly and politely.

_What_? Why had Eric told me it was Bill who summoned the demon to attack me? More importantly, what had I done to piss off the Queen enough to warrant a demonic attack? Apparently, Eric was just as surprised as me. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly before the expression on his face hardened further to conceal his reaction, and he continued his interrogation.

"Why _this_ girl?"

Lempo's lips curled into a cruel smile at the question. "I think you know why she chose this girl, Sheriff, but I will humor you."

"Stop playing your games and answer the question, or I will be forced to punish you."

The demon went so far to chuckle at Eric's threat but answered the question.

"She thought it an appropriate punishment for all those who failed her."

"Explain."

"You were intervening in the Queen's plans, and she summoned me to bond you to the girl as punishment."

Eric clenched his jaw as murder poured from his eyes in my direction. "I command you to release me from the bond," his voice was hoarse from restrained rage.

"Ah, Sheriff, you know that is beyond my power. Once my bond has been forged, it is forever."

Eric paused a moment before continuing.

"_Why_?" he commanded through clenched teeth. It was obvious he was fighting to restrain himself this much. "Why did she send _you_ to punish me?"

"The Queen is no fool, _Master_," Lempo sneered. "She knew of the bond you began in Dallas. She knew of the connection you had formed with this girl, and she knew that your desire for her would allow you to readily give more of yourself if the opportunity presented itself—"

"Answer the question!" Eric ordered.

"—Oh, but I am, master. Be patient," Lempo smiled, clearly enjoying its Master's fury. "I was ordered to injure the girl in your presence so you would offer her your blood. Then I was to use your connection to create a bond of my own because the Queen understands that, for you, a bond of my making would be the greatest punishment of all. Greater than your final death, even."

Eric froze. I could feel him testing the weight of the demon's explanation. It was clear that he was understanding something in those words that I wasn't. What was so special about one of Lempo's bonds anyway? Why was the Queen punishing Eric? Something was going on here that I was not privy to understand. I hoped he would ask the demon something about its bond so I could figure out what the hell was going on. Right now, all I knew was that the demon was sent to somehow link Eric to me, forever.

Briefly, I wondered what that meant for Eric's promise to stay away from me.

During the exchange, Sam righted a chair that had been flipped earlier in the exorcism and kept his eye on everything, making sure no one tried anything stupid, least of all, Lempo. His eyes flitted back and forth from my body on the bed, to Eric in the corner, then back to me, absorbing everything that was unfolding.

"Who else is the Queen punishing with this bond?" Eric asked quietly. There was a hint of defeat in his voice that I had never heard before.

"She is punishing you for interfering in her plans. She is punishing the girl for not cooperating. And she is punishing William Compton for failing her."

_Bill?_ She's punishing Bill? What the hell was going on? I knew he was involved somehow, but I thought he was more of an instigator of this whole mess rather than a victim. It was clear that there was much more going on here than your random, everyday possession.

Eric nodded as if he expected the answer. "How does Bill fit into all this?"

"That I cannot answer; the Queen revealed to me only a small portion of her plan."

"Then our conversation is over," Eric said, then turned to Sam. "Go into Peter's truck and bring the cage inside."

Sam nodded and left the room quickly, returning a few moments later clutching a tiny cage with a large raccoon stuffed inside. If I wasn't in such a sorry state myself, I would have felt bad for the poor creature. Its eyes were wide with terror as it took in the strange smells and sounds of its new surroundings, and it rattled against the walls of its prison, desperate for escape. Sadly, I had a pretty good idea of how it would be leaving the room, and I felt a pang of guilt stab me in the side.

Setting the cage on the on the dresser, Sam turned to Eric to await further instruction.

"Lempo, as your Master, I order you from the girl into this creature," he gestured toward the cage with one arm.

The demon was expecting this. It knew its fate the minute Eric assumed the role of Master, and it made no attempt to fight the command; The instant it released me felt like someone had cut a string.

Just like that, I was free.

Immediately, I turned my head toward the raccoon, which was now thrashing against its enclosure with apparently twice the strength it had seconds before. Without a word, Eric stepped over Peter's body, opened the cage, and broke the poor raccoon's neck. Its thrashing stopped immediately, answering my earlier question about whether you could die if you were possessed. Yes. Yes, you could.

Eric stared hard at me for a few moments while Sam looked helplessly at the disaster his room had become before realizing that I finally was myself again and stepped over to hug me. I returned the embrace gratefully but looked over his shoulder, keeping my eyes locked on Eric. His expression held no emotion now; he was the cold, calculating Vampire, evaluating me and what I was worth to him.

As close as we had become these past few weeks, we were suddenly ripped far apart with that one look. I didn't have to read his mind to know that he was deciding whether I was worth more dead or alive.

"Thank you," I said quietly to both of them after remembering my manners and then began shifting my limbs to assess the physical damage. Thankfully, it wasn't too bad—nothing more than a few shallow cuts, scrapes, and bruises—so long as Eric let me stay that way. I guess most of the pain I had been feeling was more spiritual than physical.

Eric still had yet to speak, and I wasn't sure what I should say to him. Something had changed between us, drastically, and I had no idea what it was or how to fix it. He had come to matter to me in these past few weeks, and I thought that he might have felt something for me—even if it was just possessive—but now, I had second thoughts. Lempo had changed everything.

"It's all over, Sook," Sam whispered, carefully brushing a strand of dirty hair off my face. His arms were still wrapped around me, and all I could think about was how much I needed a shower—I must have stunk to high heaven. I didn't know how either of them could tolerate being in the same room as me for so long the way I reeked, especially with their enhanced senses.

"Thank you, Sam," I repeated, scraping together a genuine smile. He hugged me again and rubbed my back in soothing circles.

"Let's get you home."

_Home_. There was no better word in the English language. All I could think of right now was curling up in my own bed after taking a long, luxurious bubble bath and scrubbing these past few weeks off my skin and watching all its filth disappear down the drain.

I smiled and nodded, then looked toward Eric again, who still was frozen in the corner of the room. His expression had become livid, and it looked like he would pounce at any second. This was not good.

"Eric?" I asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"I must leave," he said quietly, then promptly picked up Peter's body and left the room before either Sam or I could respond. The front door opened and closed a few seconds later, and I knew that I would not be getting any answers about the future of our relationship tonight.

That was fine with me. I was finally free and myself again, and I wanted to enjoy it before getting sucked into whatever position my new bond with Eric was going to force me into; it was always something with him.

After Eric's abrupt departure, Sam helped me out to his truck—even though I was more than capable of walking myself—and drove me home. Seeing as I was responsible for the destruction of his bedroom, I offered to let him stay in my guest room. It was the least I could do. Never mind the fact that as much as I wanted to be home, I couldn't bear the thought of being there alone. Not after everything that had happened.

Sam hesitated for a minute then accepted, and we were on our way.

Neither of us said anything on the short ride over to my house. I was still contemplating everything that had happened to me since Dallas, and Sam was lost inside his own head.

As we walked through the door, I braced myself for the destruction that had occurred in my kitchen weeks ago when I was attacked. Everything had been obliterated—the furniture, the appliances, the cabinets, everything. The moment Gran's kitchen table was splintered by an invisible force in front of me was one that I didn't think I could ever forget. That table had been in our family for a hundred and fifty years. I grew up at that table. And it had been destroyed in less than a few seconds.

It was dark when I walked inside, and I could just make out Sam's outline as he moved in the direction of the kitchen, presumably to take in all the damage. I had no idea how I was going to pay to fix everything—does insurance cover demonic attacks? I'd been without Gran for a few months, and already the house was falling down around me.

"Sookie, come here!" Sam said, turning on the lights in the kitchen and interrupting my internal calculations of how many extra hours I would need to put in for a new refrigerator. What now? I couldn't handle any more bad news.

When I followed Sam into the room, my jaw hit the floor, and I froze in the entryway. Instead of heaping piles of mass destruction, I found myself standing in someone else's house. Someone with cherry hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and a brand new solid oak dining table. I turned back to the foyer to make sure I was still in my house before cautiously making me way into the opulent kitchen.

"What the …" I trailed off, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened.

Sam crossed the room and picked up an envelope that had been lying on the new table. Without opening it he handed it to me then continued to appraise my new renovations.

My hands were shaking as I struggled to tear the envelope open. Only a few words were inscribed on the thick paper inside, but they were enough to make me reconsider everything I'd thought about my situation until this point.

_Because I could not protect you_

–_E_

"He must have arranged to have it done while you were … you know," Sam said, picking the note off my new hardwood floors after my hands had released it in shock and let it flutter to my feet.

"It doesn't make sense." I dragged one of the eight chairs out from around my massive new table and plopped down on it.

"What doesn't?" Sam asked, sitting across from me.

"What do you know about, Eric?" I said, ignoring his question.

"Not much," he replied. "Why?"

"Well, what is the little you do know?"

"He's … resourceful," Sam considered. "But he's greedy and self serving. What are you getting at, Sookie?"

"Exactly." I said. "Does he seem the type to build someone a new kitchen out of guilt?"

"It depends," he said, and my eyes shot up to his. "If it was for me, he wouldn't care enough even to consider it—"

"Exactly!" I repeated. "So why would he go out of his way to fix _my_ kitchen?"

"He's … different with you, though" Sam continued. "He's more … invested."

I wasn't expecting that. As weird as the last few weeks had been, I still knew that Eric would never be more involved with me than would benefit him. He was Vampire first; I could never forget that with him. My original feelings toward him may have changed since Dallas, but I refused to look into them any further. Those "moments" we shared had been bad decisions in moments of desperation and nothing else. Right? Eric had responded only because he enjoyed the opportunity that had presented itself. Right?

Very slowly, I was afraid that I was starting to understand exactly what kind of bond Lempo had formed between me and Eric. But I had to be sure.

"Sam, I need you to help me find everything we can about Lempo and the Queen's plan."

"Whatever you want, Sookie," Sam complied. "But we're not going to do anything tonight. Right now, you're going to take a shower, then you're going to sleep until you physically can't anymore."

That brought me back.

Realizing just how exhausted I was, I smiled at Sam, grateful. Then, without saying a word, I went upstairs and did just as he said. Despite all my new troubles, I never slept so long, or so comfortably.

**SO sorry this took so long. Life has been an epic suck for the past month with lots of work, work, work. But it's slowed down a lot (good for writing, bad for the bank account o_O), so I should be able to update more regularly.**

**So due to work and the fact that I actually had to sit and plan some of this story out, I was incredibly delayed. Usually I just sit down with a basic "goal" in mind for each chapter, but this one was a little bit of a crucial turning point, and I had to make a decision as to where I wanted the story to go. Hopefully ya'll are still on for the ride…**

**PS Google has some mighty curious information about the demon "Lempo" if any of you feel so inclined to not wait for me ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yet another late chapter, and yet another apology. **

**I've been insanely busy working full time at my editorial job, then I just started free lancing for another company, and now I somehow got myself roped into doing PR for a book publishing retreat/seminar thing. My life is out of control. So please bear with me and the slow updates!**

It was in me again, using my body, using it against the people I cared about. I felt its oily coldness inside my gut pulling me out of my bed and forcing me to walk down to my old bedroom at the end of the hallway; the floorboards were silent beneath my bare feet. I heard its evil whisper in my ear telling me what it had planned to do. The steel of the steak knife was frigid and clutched tightly in my hand. I saw Sam's sleeping form in the bed as the door pushed open with the slightest of creaks. I sensed the demon's excitement as I crept to his bedside and pressed the knife against his unsuspecting heart, and I tasted its elation as the knife plunged deep into his chest, reveling in the sensation of how easily the steel slid into hot, breathing flesh.

Sam's eyes opened wide when he felt the knife go in and locked onto my smiling, demonic face. I knew the second he realized he was going to die. His expression cringed into a series of painful contractions, and there was an overwhelming sadness in his eyes when he saw that I was the one who to end it. Inside, I was calling out to him, selfishly begging for forgiveness in the last moments of his life.

_Why_? Why was Lempo doing this to me? Why was it forcing me to watch all my friends suffer? I wanted to scream, to rip my own arms from my body—anything to keep them from hurting someone else. Somehow I wrested control from the demon, pulled the knife out of Sam's chest, and immediately beginning to hack at my left arm. My determination to keep myself from hurting anyone else was more than strong enough to mask the pain.

The blood ran down my arm in mesmerizing rivulets as the tendons were spliced away from the cartilage, bone, and tissue, all while the demon laughed with its sinister sneer and sat back, allowing me to continue mutilating myself.

"Sookie," someone was calling my name. "_Sookie_, wake up!"

My eyes snapped open, and I awoke in bed with Sam's worried face looking down on me as the echoes of the demon's laughter faded away with the horrific images of my awful dream. Without even thinking about it, I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his neck.

"Oh, God, Sam!"

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. His warm hand promptly began to stroke my back in a slow circle. "It was just another dream."

Of course it was. My dreams had become increasingly disturbing since returning home. It was amazing I was even able to sleep at all. Just when I thought they couldn't get worse, I'd go to bed and wake up with an entirely new set of issues.

"It was so real this time." I started to tremble when I remembered the slick, squishy sound of the knife plunging into Sam's chest. Gingerly I touched above his heart where, moments before, I had plunged a steak knife. "I killed you."

"No you didn't," Sam said quickly, but I felt him tense under my words. "I'm fine. We're both fine."

"I hate this."

"I know . . . I know," Sam soothed. His voice was soft, and warm, and whispering in my ear.

"I thought it was supposed to get better after the exorcism." I said after soaking in his comfort for a few minutes. I moved my hand from his chest to wipe my face, which at some point had become drenched with tears.

"Give it time," Sam said. "It's only been a few weeks."

His hand continued stroking my back while the other moved up to my hair and got lost in its tangles. I felt his arms pull me a little closer to him, and I picked out of his thoughts how much he was enjoying comforting me. I knew then that this wasn't right, I should have stopped him, kept him from getting too sucked in, but he was so warm and comforting. He was making me feel better, and God help me, I was going to let him.

The right thing would have been to push Sam away and deal with my issues on my own, but I wasn't capable of doing the right thing—not right now, anyway. Instead, I closed my eyes and pictured two large, pale arms around me instead of Sam's shorter bronzed ones. I breathed in Sam's outdoorsy, familiar smell and pretended it was the clean smell of night in the bayou that was all Eric. Everything else fell away but me and the Viking. He was wrapped around me like a suit of armor, protecting me from anything except him. And for the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

My hand left his broad shoulder and began to trace his sinewy muscles down the length of his arm and back up the other side, memorizing every curve and every bulge.

I turned my head toward his neck and gently pressed my lips to the cool skin of his neck. He tasted sweet with a hint of maple. Sam—because in the back of my mind, I knew it was him all along—stiffened around me, and I sensed a buzzing of energy stirring within him. I kept my eyes pressed shut and ignored the pounding in his chest and the air stirring in his lungs; I needed this to be Eric right now. Stoic, solid, Eric. Living without him for so long was agonizing.

I wanted to fight it—had to fight it. Being attracted to someone like Eric, even if it wasn't my choice, was more trouble than it was worth, and it needed to stop. Besides, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since he made his grand exit that night in Sam's trailer. As big a show he put on for me back when I was possessed, he sure didn't seem to be having any trouble keeping his promise to stay away—no matter what kind of bond was forced on him.

But right now everything inside me was screaming to keep holding onto him, to keep stroking him, to _be_ with Eric.

As it turned out, I didn't need hours in a library to find out about Lempo's bond. I was learning plenty on my own. It had filled every waking thought with images of Eric with me, on me, in me, pushing me to the brink. More than once, I'd wondered what this bond was doing to Eric, whether it was as all-consuming for him like it was for me.

Imaginary-Eric twisted his neck to bring our faces closer together. I smiled when I felt his lips latch onto my own and responded by lightly fluttering my tongue against his mouth. He squeezed me tighter and began to kiss me in earnest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lost myself in the brief memories of our earlier, quieter kisses. The soft stubble of his beard scratched against my face—I could feel each coarse hair on my skin, rubbing against me, and I wanted more. My lips parted and his tongue slipped in, tentatively at first then quickly becoming more aggressive, coaxing my lust.

At some point, his warm palms had slipped beneath my tank top and continued their rubbing in a slow circular pattern, lighting a trail of fire on my back. I moaned into his mouth and began to assault his tongue with my own. He tasted so good—too good—and I couldn't get enough.

Laying back against the pillows, I pulled him down with me, wanting to feel all of his body pressed tight against me. This was right. Eric and I should be together like this—needed to be together like this.

"Sookie, I've wanted this for so long," he said, breaking the kiss. "Since the day I met you."

My eyes were still shut as I began kissing and licking my way down his neck and out to his shoulder, confessing softly as I went. He deserved to know the truth. "Deep down, I always wanted it, too."

"Sookie," he moaned into my neck, and I arched up beneath him, unceremoniously opening my legs for him to slide between. "God, I love you."

He brought his mouth back to mine, and my legs came up of their own accord to cradle him while my hands framed the contours of his face, holding him to me. I never wanted to let him go.

"Eric . . ." I sighed between kisses, curling my fingers into his hair. The name slipped out so easily.

As soon as I said his name, he froze on top of me, then quickly pulled away. I opened my eyes and immediately was brought out of hallucination, or vision, or high—whatever it was—as memories of my nightmare followed by Sam's immediate comfort washed over me. What had I just done?

The pain in Sam's eyes quickly doused any remaining lust I may have felt. As if I'd been burned, I leapt to the other side of the bed, pulled my legs up into me, and covered my mouth with both hands, mortified. How could I let this happen?

Sam was on his knees across the bed from me, looking as wounded as I'd ever seen him—an expression vaguely reminiscent of when I stabbed him in my dream.

"Sam, I—"

He lifted a hand softly, painfully, to stop me. "Don't." His voice was thick and heavy. "Just . . . don't."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," I had to say something. It sounded so pathetic and weak out loud, but I meant it more than I'd ever meant anything. Guilty tears welled up in my eyes as Sam warred with himself to keep his pain concealed, but I could see it. I could feel it inside him. And it was deep. "Sam, _please_. . ." I begged him to understand.

"I can't . . . I can't do this right now." He covered his face in his hands and stood up. I caught him glance at me once more before he left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Once he was gone, my face fell forward into my hands, and I did my best to keep my sobs as quiet as possible for the rest of the night.

~*~

Sam was in my brand-new, expensive kitchen when I finally found the courage to go downstairs the next morning, still wearing the shorts and tank top I slept in. I knew he'd be there; he was never someone to walk out. Sam was a good man like that—unlike _other_ men I associated with. And there he was, sitting in the room that still took my breath away whenever I saw it. A half-eaten bowl of cereal was growing soggy in front of him as he clutched tightly to an almost-empty bottle of Budweiser—the only sign that he was coping.

"Morning," he said not looking up from the newspaper in front of him. It was obvious that he wasn't reading for content more than as an excuse to not look at me. "Do you want something to eat?"

"No," I said quietly, then sat down in at the table across from him. "Can we talk?"

"Sookie, look," he began as if he had been waiting for permission to speak, Cautiously, his grey eyes met mine. "I get it. I know you've been confused. I shouldn't have pushed you—"

"Sam, no! This is not your fault!"

"I just wish that you could have given me a chance," he continued, ignoring me.

"Listen to me," Before I could stop myself, I reached across the table and slipped my fingers around his. He squeezed them once then pulled away. "You know I _never_ would have—"

Sam nodded. "I know."

"It's this bond. It's got me all messed up."

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sookie. I'd actually prefer to act like last night never happened."

If I was smart, then I would have stopped there, but I had to make him understand. "You have to know how sorry I am . . . You're one of my best friends . . . "

"I know." His response had a sharp edge to it. That clearly wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I'll never be anything else to you. No one gets a chance with you unless they're missing a pulse." His voice was steel, and his mouth was set in a fixed, hard line.

The force of his words pushed me back against the chair. "That's not fair." My voice was light with shock and came out more of a whisper than the accusation I had meant it to be.

"Don't talk to me about fair. I put my life on hold for you—"

"I didn't ask you to do that!" I interrupted quickly, hurt that he would use that of all things against me.

"You don't have to ask me!" Sam countered. His eyes were wide with emotions. Misery. Pain. Jealousy. Affection. It was all there and more. "That's the point. I'll always drop everything for you, Sookie. _Always_. But you don't care about that."

"Oh, Sam . . ." I didn't know what else to say. A stray tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away absentmindedly. A few seconds slipped by where neither of us said anything. We didn't look at each other, and we didn't talk to each other. Full minutes went by before I found the strength to speak.

"I don't want to hurt you . . ."

"Too late," was his flat reply. He was staring at the wall next to me now, his back pressed flush against the chair, with one arm resting on the table, the other on his knee. It was almost like I wasn't even there. Sighing, I realized that I'd been holding onto Sam long enough. I had to let him go.

"Sam, I really do appreciate everything you've done for me, and I swear I'm going to make it all up to you," I tried to smile and be reassuring, then failed beautifully. "But I think maybe it's best if you go back to your life. I've healed, and I can take care of myself again . . ." I trailed off, waiting to see how he'd react. Truthfully, the thought of being alone still terrified me, and I was so wrapped up in this new bond that I could barely remember to eat at regular times throughout the day. In short, I was still a total disaster. But Sam had given up enough. He needed to get back to his old routine, and I had to grow up and take responsibility for my life. And after what I did last night, I couldn't bear to take anything else from him.

"Not until I know you're safe."

"What?"

"Not until I know Bill can't hurt you any more," he clarified.

"But it could be months, _years_, before they find Bill!" I argued. "I won't let you give up your life like that."

Sam just shrugged and got up to rinse the soggy cereal from his bowl in my new, solid marble sink. "It's my life to do as I please."

At that moment, I wished Sam was a Vampire so I could simply rescind his invitation to my home. After all, it worked so well the last time.

"Sam, I'm fine." I said, exhaustion weighing in my words. I couldn't argue anymore. "I don't need you to take care of me."

"You think I don't know that I can't help you with this?" he said, slamming the water off and turning to face me. He clutched the edge of the counter next to him so hard, his knuckles were white. "All I'm good for is cooking your meals and watching you slip further away. Every night you wake up screaming. All day long you sit in the corner, and you don't move. You can't work, you can't eat, you can't do anything for yourself. And there's _nothing_ I can do about it!"

"Sam—"

"Last night I thought I was finally getting through to you," his fingers left the counter to grip his hair, desperate to do something. "I thought you turned a corner and we were going to be okay, but then . . ."

"I opened my mouth . . ."

"No. Then I realized that you weren't going to get better. Not with me. _He's_ the only person I know who could help." He crossed the kitchen and squatted on the back of his heels in front of me. "I promised that I'd help you figure out what's going on with this bond to Eric. We're not having any luck on our own and it's obvious that whatever's going on with you is getting worse. . . I'm taking tonight off from the bar and we're going to Fangtasia to get some answers."

"What?" My mind was working in slow motion. "He's not going to talk to me."

"He'll talk to you," Sam said, sounding more assured than he had since we began this conversation.

His hands covered my own, and I looked down into his eyes, which were swirling like a storm at sea. This wasn't easy for him. I nodded, if for no other reason than to not see his pain. As soon as I'd agreed, the dead weight of dread fixed in my gut. I would have thought the idea of seeing Eric again would make me feel better, but instead, I was terrified. I had no idea what to expect.

Sam squeezed my hands and stood up. "I have some things to take care of at the bar before we go. I'll be back before dark," he promised. Then he grabbed his keys from a dish on the counter and left.

"I'll see you . . ." I all but whispered from my seat at the expensive kitchen table complete with hand-carved cherubs along the lower frame. I couldn't get a grip on the fear. It crept through me, weighing me down. I didn't know whether to run or to stay and face Eric. I had no idea how he was coping with this. For all I knew, he hated me for sucking him into my mess. There had to be a reason he wanted to stay away from me.

Eventually I managed to get up from the table and go into the bathroom to clean up. But after a long, hot shower, a fresh change of clothes, and even some mascara, I still looked awful. Since coming home, my appearance began degrading. I felt like a rotting corpse. Standing in the mirror, I gave myself a final appraisal, doing my best to ignore the black circles under my eyes. My hair was limp and ashy, hanging out of my head like cold, wet noodles. My tan had long since faded and left me with sallow, grayish skin. Vanity was never one of my vices, but I always had taken a little bit of pride in my appearance—it was one of the few things that made me feel normal.

But now that was gone too.

I had pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, not seeing the point in dressing up, when I felt so awful. Then I returned to my post at the kitchen table and waited for Sam to come back, trying not to think about what could happen the rest of the night.

Slowly, the sun descended from its height in the sky as the shadows lengthened on the ground and swept the world up into their darkness.

Sam arrived just before nightfall. I heard his truck crunching on the gravel up the driveway before he shut off the engine and hopped out. He was inside a moment later, asking if I was ready to go.

I nodded and collected my purse, holding it to me like a safety blanket. Sensing, my anxiety, Sam spoke, "I won't let anything happen to you."

I followed him out to the car and got in. Neither of us spoke during the hour and a half it took to get to Fangtasia. I was too busy trying to keep myself calm, hoping that Sam had some kind of plan to keep us safe. What if Eric had gone crazy? I was almost there myself, was it really that far of a stretch? He was never one to say no to violence before, so who's to say he wasn't looking for it now, thanks to the delirium of this bond? Yet, a part of me wanted to see him, wanted to be near him, whatever the cost.

By the time we pulled into the Fangtasia parking lot shortly before opening I had to take a minute before getting out of the truck. It felt like someone was splitting me down the middle; half of me wanted to sprint inside and find Eric as quickly as possible. He was in there; I could sense him, and all I wanted was to be near him The other part of me wanted to beg Sam to turn around and go home. But I couldn't do that to him, not when he was so sure that this was the only way he could help. Releasing a shaky sigh, I opened the door and stepped onto the asphalt, ready to face whatever lay in store for me.

A long line had formed outside the club already, so Sam sidled me over to the back door that had "Employees Only" splayed across it in bold letters and knocked briskly. I guess he knew how things worked here.

Instead of Ginger or some other fangbanging minion, Pam greeted us. She opened the door partway and used her body to block as much of the interior as she could. Her eyes immediately narrowed at me. I wanted to scream at her. This was not the time for her stupid games. I wanted to slap her, to push past her to find Eric, and at the same time, I wanted to cower and cry. He was so close; I could feel the air thrumming with his nearness. It both exhilarated and terrified me.

Pam's eyes flitted back and forth between us while her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders, reminding me of how awful I looked.

"Dogs wait outside," her lip actually curled when she looked at Sam. Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside before either of us could protest. So much for Sam's protection.

As soon as the door was closed behind her, my back was pressed against the wall as Pam whirled to face me, her finger raised a threatening inch from my eye. I felt a breeze as it wagged in my face, punctuating each of her syllables. Outside I could hear Sam pounding on the door to be let in, but Pam ignored him.

"I don't know what you did to my Master, but you fix it. _Now_."

I blinked. "What?"

"Don't play coy with me, Sookie," she warned, her voice low. "I'll get the truth eventually, and you won't like my methods to find it."

"Pam, I don't know what you're talking about," I argued, my eyes wide. "I haven't seen him in weeks."

"What happened with you two?" she pressed. "He goes away for more than two weeks and comes back reeking of you. Now he's slipping. He's making mistakes." Her arm shot out into my shoulder and pressed me hard against the wall.

"What kind of mistakes?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"Answer my question," Pam hissed and dug her fingers into my back.

"He helped me," I said, wincing through the pain.

"_How_?" She squeezed tighter. Her eyes were blazing into mine, making it clear just how worried she was about her Maker.

"I was possessed. He helped me." It was like a light bulb went off. In that moment, I knew what I had to do. The two warring sides within me came together and gave me strength. Eric was here, and I could help him. He was the key. _We_ were the key. "Pam, let me see him. I think I can help."

She peered into me, searching for the truth in my words before jerking her head in the direction of Eric's office and relinquishing her crippling hold on my shoulder. Thankfully, the pain faded quickly.

"For your sake, I hope you're right."

**I can't help but feel for Sam. That guy gets burned more than anyone else I know . . . **


	12. Chapter 12

**Not even going to try and give excuses for the massive delay. Sorry. **

**But a massive thank you to the readers for sticking with this. Hopefully this chapter will be to your liking :)**

A thrumming had formed in my chest, growing stronger as I walked down the hallway toward Eric's office. By the time I reached the door, it was so strong I thought it would crack my ribs. My hands were shaking as I reached out to push the heavy door, and I lingered on a passing thought to simply turn around and go home. Sam was probably still right outside the back door, it would be so easy to forget this stupid idea and leave . . .

A part of me was screaming to do just that. To run out of this stupid club and not look back. Not ever look back. I was never psychic before, but somehow I knew that opening the door in front of me would change everything, that seeing Eric again would force me to lose everything.

I turned the knob and pushed the door open anyway.

Inside was darkness. I hesitated in the doorway, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the black. Slowly, I started to notice little details like empty bottles of True Blood covering every surface and piles of books and papers strewn across the floor. Eric was nowhere to be seen.

Usually whenever I'd been in Eric's office, it was disgustingly neat, with everything in its proper place, and he would be leaning back in his leather chair with his feet propped up on the corner of his enormous desk. Occasionally I'd seen him do actual work, but that was rare.

When my eyes were fully adjusted, I took a step inside. My heart was beating as fast as the vibration in my chest. Where was he? I scanned the room, which seemed so much smaller now with all the clutter. From the look of things, life hadn't been too easy for him recently either.

Then I saw him, hunched over on the couch, elbows on his knees, and his face covered by two massive hands. He looked awful.

The thrumming stopped immediately, and I let out a massive whoosh of relief.

No matter how he looked, the moment I saw him, a pressure released inside my chest, like someone unscrewing a vice. He was here and he was alive. That was all I needed. I was so glad to see him that I could have burst into song right then and there. But something held me back.

I found myself pausing. He seemed so . . . old sitting there like that. The desire to leave resurfaced, and once again, I was tempted to run back out the door. It was clear he had a lot on his mind, and all I was going to do was add to it.

As if I'd spoken out loud, Eric spoke. His accent was ragged and hoarse. "You shouldn't be here."

"I had to see you." The words fell out before I even had a chance to register what he'd said, and my need to leave evaporated as soon as I heard his voice. I was where I wanted to be, where I needed to be. Besides, Sam had brought me all this way. I wondered briefly whether he had found another way into the bar, or if Pam was still enforcing her "no shifters allowed" rule.

I remained close to the door, just to be safe, but Eric made no indication that he'd even heard what I said, let alone that he was on the verge hurting me.

I was about to give up but couldn't bring myself to do anything but stand there and stare at him, soaking him in.

Finally, Eric moved. He lifted his head and looked right at me. I knew that he'd felt the same kind of release that I had when I saw the deep furrows in his forehead smooth out and his eyes become clear, as if a great weight had just melted off his back.

". . . I need some answers," I said when Eric still refused to speak. He just kept staring. I would have been more than happy to stand there and gaze back at him, but I had a job to do. I needed to figure out how to live again.

"I don't have the ones you're looking for," he said after another moment. He clasped his hands into a fist and pressed it against his mouth, which was drawn into a thin, taught line.

Not about to play games, I said, "You have information. I want to know what it is."

Eric said nothing and sat back on the couch, crossing his legs and leaning back as he did so. This was a little closer to the Eric I was used to—calm and in control of everything. Seeing him act a little more confident, I felt a little more comfortable and walked to the couch and sat down.

He appraised me, taking in my awful appearance with a quick sweep of his eyes. For his part, he didn't look much better. His eyes were sunken, and his skin was sallow and more dead looking than I'd ever seen it. Just as I'd suspected, these past few weeks hadn't been a bed of roses for him either.

Eric continued to stare, and I was starting to get annoyed. The last thing I wanted to do right now was to drag information out of someone, especially him. Stubborn ass that he was.

"Who exactly is Lempo?"

His only response was to blink. And to keep staring, looking at me as if I were stupid for not knowing who it was that had possessed me. Crazy Sookie, that was me. I almost pasted that stupid smile on my face to deflect some of his judgment. If I could have, I would have stormed off after being ignored for so long, but I enjoyed the stillness too much.

After another awkward moment or two, Eric finally answered. "What I know is only stories and rumors I picked up over the years." He paused. "But Lempo is one of the most powerful demons left in existence."

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. I imagined that if he still breathed, he would have sighed.

"He is a demon of chaos and darkness—one of the most feared. His preferred . . . methods are to take normally pleasant emotions and relationships and using them against his victims."

His eyes latched onto mine for the millionth time since I had walked in the room, and I struggled to dig beneath the surface of his words to hear what he was telling me.

". . . love, for example."

The room lurched grotesquely. "Wait, what?"

"Lempo cursed us when he forced me to give you my blood," he explained. This time he really did sigh. "We're in . . . love."

"No . . ." was all I could say.

I'd been in love before. With Bill. And for the most part, it was wonderful. Whatever this feeling was made me feel damn awful. I had been living with this all-consuming need to be with Eric every single second of every day. I wanted to know what he was doing and who he was with at all times. I wanted him to envelop me, to absorb me, I wanted him to take everything of mine and make me his and only his. That was not love. It was sick.

"Yes," Eric said.

"This is awful."

"I agree."

Eric's disgusted reaction when he had finally learned who it was that possessed me made so much more sense now. I was inclined to agree with him.

"When I first came here, I thought you were going to tell me that this bond thing was just a permanent link between us or something like that—"

He interrupted me. "It's more than permanent."

Perfect. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean that even now, when you're alive, I can't stand to be without you. If you hadn't come here tonight, I doubt I would have made it through the week without bringing you here to stay with me. I've been living on bottled shit because I can't stand the taste of anyone else. I can't even fuck anymore. I can't stop thinking of you."

His word both chilled and flattered me. I saw where he was going with his little rant and could almost hear my heart being wrenched in two with the need to keep him from suffering and with my own desire for a normal life.

"So . . . even when I'm, um, gone, you're still going to love—"

"Yes," he said. "And it will eventually drive me mad, being without you."

I closed my eyes and swallowed. If the way I was feeling toward Eric right now was any indication, then I probably would allow him to turn me before long to keep him from going insane. I would happily go against everything I believed in if it meant shielding him from pain. But I couldn't allow that to happen to me. At the very least, I couldn't let myself _choose_ to be turned. I needed some kind of control.

". . . are you going to turn me?"

His eyes stretched for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Do you want to be turned?"

"No," I said without thinking while simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief. Somewhere inside me, I still had some grasp of who I was.

In one quick move, he was right there on his knees in front of me. "Then I couldn't do that to you." His fingers came up to stroke my neck. "I would if I could, but I know how much you would hate this life, so I won't. Not unless you asked me to."

His hand closed slowly around my throat, and I sensed how much he wanted to squeeze—hard enough for my eyeballs to pop out of my skull. But I still felt peaceful. Something told me that Eric wouldn't hurt me. Not anymore.

Echoing my thought, he said, "I wish I could kill you," then removed his hand, stood over me, and kissed the spot on my throat where his fingers had been squeezing a second before. "But you have nothing to fear from me. I give you my word."

The spot on my neck where his lips had touched me burned even minutes after the brief contact. Unconsciously, I rubbed my throat.

"Why is this happening to us?"

Eric paced the room once. "The Queen. She's punishing me, and she wants to keep you. That's all I know. All we can do is wait and see what she has in store for us."

"Well, what are we going to do then?"

He looked at me. "Your guess is as god as mine."

My heart sank. "Please tell me you have some kind of plan."

"I've been trying to find some way to break our bond but haven't come across anything that would be of use." He was back on the couch now, sitting closer than before with one arm draped behind me on the back of the couch.

Despite all the bad news falling into my lap, I wasn't too upset. I knew I should have been, but I was too busy memorizing the curves of Eric's hand as it began to explore the tangles in my hair, smoothing them without even a hint of pain. Not even impending insanity could ruin this moment.

"What are you thinking about?"

I found myself curling into the space between his shoulder and elbow, loving how his arm enveloped me.

"Nothing," I replied. My hand found itself on his knee.

"You aren't worried about what could happen?"

"Should I be?"

His fingers wrapped a strand of hair around my ear and changed the subject before answering my question. He spoke absentmindedly, as if I suddenly weren't in the room with him.

"Whether you die now or in sixty years, it all ends the same for me," he stared off into space and his arm began to tighten around me. "Insanity."

I stiffened and tried to sit up, but he held me against him. The increasing pressure from his arm was making breathing a little too difficult.

The pressure from his arm continued to grow and spots began blinking in front of my eyes. I tried to pound his leg, to struggle, to get away, but it was useless. He was too strong.

"I cannot lose you." He was still talking to himself, seemingly unaware that he was also killing me. I was pressed so tight that my head began to pound and my ears started to ring. He had lost control of his strength as he imagined life without me, which looked like it was going to start much sooner than either of us would have liked. "Already my head is so much clearer."

At this point, my eyelids were actually fluttering on the verge of unconsciousness before Eric finally came back to reality and released me. Air rushed into my lungs with a violent cough and my vision cleared.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I wheezed as soon as I could get enough air under my words. For someone who seemed so determined to keep me, he didn't seem to have any qualms almost killing me himself.

I jumped off the couch and marched to the other side of the room to get away from him, but when I turned around, he was no more than an inch, maybe two, away from me. And even after everything that had just happened, I was okay with that.

Eric brought his face down close to mine. "I'm in love with you, and I detest the very thought of it."

Well what was I supposed to say to that? I remembered what it was like to be in love with Bill. When we would share things and support each other. We had been friends and we had trusted each other. I had none of that with Eric.

"Eric, this can't be love."

He moved in even closer and inhaled my scent. I shivered. "Well then, what would you call it?"

"I don't know, but it's nothing like what I felt when I was with Bill."

At the sound of Bill's name, Eric hissed softly. When he raised his lips, I saw his fangs extend and actually had to hold back from reaching out and stroking them with my fingertips.

"You could not have loved that fool."

"You've never even been in love. What would you know about it?"

"I know that he was not the man you thought he was." He practically breathed the words into my mouth. I could taste them. They were sweet, like chocolate.

"You draw me in, Sookie," he said. "Like nothing else."

I didn't want to talk about this any more because I simply didn't care. All I wanted was to be swallowed up by him, to immerse myself in everything that was quintessentially Eric. In a few more minutes, he was going to become my entire world.

"I can't keep away from you any more," I heard myself say but didn't remember thinking the words. "Nothing made sense when I was away from you."

Eric kissed me then, devoured my lips with his own, and I wrapped my body around his. I couldn't get close enough. The moment our mouths connected, so did the rest of our senses. Our hips moved against each other, dancing to the same rhythm as our tongues.

Eric's fangs were still extended and he moaned when I tilted my head back and took one of the sharp teeth between my lips and sucked. His hands came around my waist, holding me to him.

He broke away several minutes later and rubbed his cheek against mine, his mouth next to my ear. "You can't leave."

I didn't know whether he was talking about forever or about just then, and I didn't care. "I don't want to."

He kissed me again, and my legs buckled, threatening to give way completely, under the weight of sensations. Nothing could ever feel as right as this.

The longer we kissed, the more connected I felt. Breaking the contact was useless. Neither of us were strong enough to even try at this point. Lempo's bond had sealed us together and being apart was no longer an option.

Eric had me pressed against the wall as he ravaged my mouth with his tongue and lips. My mind was on overload from the uproar of his kiss and from his hands roaming my body freely while his own pressed against me.

When he finally broke away, he pressed his forehead against mine and looked at me. Contentment flowed through us, and I wondered whether I even wanted to give this up. Sure it was selfish, but I hadn't felt this good in so long.

"I've never felt like this before," he said.

Honestly, I hadn't either, and I told him so. Were it not for the danger looming over our heads, everything would have been perfect.

"So what are we going to do?" I asked after a moment.

"I'll continue to look for ways to break Lempo's bond. Until then, you will stay with me."

I blinked and a thousand thoughts ran through my head. I pulled back slightly. The little voice inside me spoke up, telling me that staying with Eric would be a massive mistake.

Sensing my hesitation, he said, "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's just happening so fast," I said once I had come to terms with what he was saying. "You're getting way ahead of yourself. I have a home and a job I need to get back to. I can't just stay with you on a whim."

He spoke with a tone of finality that left no room for argument. "I'm not going to be without you anymore. Not until the bond is broken."

As if to emphasize his point, Eric's lips overcame my own for a second time. He had to hold me up when my legs finally gave out a second later. I didn't have the strength to pull away. Or maybe I just didn't want to.

His hands pressed and massaged various parts of my body, and my will power disintegrated a little more. Why shouldn't I just give up my life and spend it with Eric instead. It wasn't like I was mentally stable enough to work anyway.

"Stay with me," Eric breathed against my neck. I shivered.

"I—"

"I have no other way to keep you safe," he said. "We still haven't located Bill, and the Queen is after you, too."

I had assumed that Bill was still around, biding his time, but he had faded into the background—more of an afterthought than anything else. Having never met the Queen, she wasn't even a blip on my radar even though she was the person responsible for this awful mess. All through my time at home, I hadn't been able to think of anything but Eric. Now when I was here with him, he was still all I thought about. I was screwed either way.

"I don't know what to do," I said finally. There was pressure coming at me from all different directions, enough to make my head scream in agony. Then there was the little nagging detail that even the thought of leaving Eric was unbearable.

"I'll protect you—I have to for my own sake—just _stay with me_."

"But—"

"I have people searching for Bill at all times and we can't do anything but wait for the Queen to make her move. If we're together, she'll never be able to take you from me."

"Eric . . ."

"You don't have a choice, Sookie. If I have to, I'll force you to stay. You will _not_ leave me."

He was making too much sense for me to form any logical argument. I wanted to say yes—badly, but there was a part of me begging to not relinquish control of my life to Eric. I was raised to not need a man to take care of me, and here I was on the cusp of making one the center of my whole world. There was just something so wrong about it.

But what could I do?

Eric had promised to force me to remain with him, but he wouldn't need to. It wasn't necessary. Whatever the little voice was saying, a much larger part of me needed to be with him. Whatever the cost.

"Okay, Eric, okay. I'll stay with you until we get this figured out."

For the third time that night, he kissed me, and this time, he didn't stop until he had explored every inch of me.

**So now that I've knuckled down and actually figured out where I'm going to go with this, there should be about eight chapters left. Hopefully, I'll have this little dohicky finished by the end of the summer.**


	13. Chapter 13

Good, Lord almighty, was this inappropriate. After all those years of Gran raising me to be a respectful young lady, here I was clinging to a man like a barnacle. Countless lessons of self-respect and loving yourself most out the window, just like that. Poof.

We'd been like this for hours. Since we'd started, several knocks had sounded on Eric's door, but he'd barely looked up to bark at them to go away. We were so buried in each other that the only time we came apart was so I could replenish my oxygen supply. I didn't know what I was going to do when the sun came up and I had to find some other way to keep sane that didn't involve hours of serious tonsil hockey with Eric.

Most of our clothes were strewn either over lampshades or across the floor, while I was situated on top of Eric, who was sitting upright on the couch. I was in nothing but my underwear and pressed against his gloriously cool skin.

Honestly, I had no idea what was going on below the belt. He could have been giving me the ride of my life, or he could have been behaving like a perfect gentleman. I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. The only thing I cared about was skin-on-skin contact. It was my lifeline.

This need wasn't so much about climax as it was about losing ourselves in each other. And based on those standards, I'd say we were doing a pretty good job of it. Neither of us had surfaced from our little bubble for the last two hours at least. Santa Claus could have been knocking at the door with bags of money and happiness, and we wouldn't have been motivated to answer.

I repositioned myself so that I was straddling his naked lap, unable to bring myself close enough, thanks in large part, to an erection as thick as a small tree branch pressed between us.

"Feels so good . . ." I muttered when he squeezed the mounds of flesh below my spine and rubbed me nearer. His erection twitched dangerously, thumping against my stomach. He growled and bit my ear, causing my back to cave inward and my breasts to be thrust against his chest. Our nipples were so hard, they were nothing more than tiny, sensitive peaks, and when they grazed each other, the shock was thunderous.

I rubbed against him again, and the response was exactly the same. He squeezed and rubbed his tongue hard against mine.

This needed to go on forever. If I was afraid of losing my mind before when Eric had been staying away from me, then it was as good as gone the second he went to ground in the morning, leaving me all alone with my . . . issues. The thought almost made me cry. Now that we'd crossed this bridge, I was pretty sure neither of us could handle going back. For better or worse, we were in this together.

We'd been at it for so long that there had to have been only minutes left before dawn. There were no windows in his office to gauge the time, but I was certain that sunrise was right around the corner and I would have to bid goodnight to Eric. The realization brought with it an unpleasant lurch that hit me hard enough to yank my tongue from his cool mouth.

"How much longer before the sun comes up?" I whispered as I hands slid down my legs. The simple caress burned like lava down my skin, and I prayed that I was wrong. Maybe the morning was still a few hours away.

His hands crawled back up my legs, coming to rest on my hips while his lips enveloped my own. "Dawn has already come and gone."

"What?" I broke away to stare at him, noticing for the first time that the ever-present din of people dancing and drinking beneath a thick layer of loud, unfamiliar music was missing. My head was at peace and we were completely alone. No wonder I was having such a good time.

"How . . ."

"I'd say it's about eleven in the morning." With no clocks or windows at my immediate disposal, I had no way to see whether he was right. He probably was.

He kissed me again, hard enough to curl my hair, but I couldn't relax and enjoy it as much as I could before I knew it was past his bedtime. Eric shouldn't have been functioning during the day. He needed to recharge. Hell, _I_ needed to recharge.

When I pulled away to look at him a second time, I noticed a steady trickle of blood flowing from his right ear. How had I missed that earlier?

"Eric, you're bleeding." I reached up and broke the stream with my fingers.

"I know," he sighed, and his hands settled themselves over my breasts. Despite my concern, I shivered. "It's the bleeds."

My confusion must have been evident because he didn't bother waiting for me to ask him to explain.

"We can force ourselves to stay awake during the day, but it weakens us considerably. Eventually we bleed out." As he spoke, I noticed more blood pooling in the other ear.

Ah, shoot.

I gulped, really hating what I was about to say. The words were thick and didn't want to leave my mouth. "You should probably go to ground then."

He nodded and said, "I should. But I would much rather continue with you here," then applied a hard pressure to both nipples with his fingers in case I wasn't sure what he meant.

A cold tingle raced up and down my spine, and I had to swallow the overwhelming amount of "yes" that had swelled in my mouth. As much as I wanted it, the little voice was insistent, warning that continuing the make-out session would only end up hurting Eric, which scared me worse than being without him for a few hours. It seemed that a compromise was in order. Something I wasn't sure Eric had much experience with.

"I don't want you to be in pain." I nuzzled his neck with my lips. He smelled vaguely of cocoa.

"And I don't want to leave you here alone."

"You can't just stay awake all day, Eric." I pressed. "It's not good for you."

He growled and grazed the skin over my collar bone with his teeth instead of answering. It was a rather effective attempt to weaken my resolve, but then I saw more blood oozing from beneath his fingernails, which brought me right back. I told myself there would be plenty of time for that tomorrow night.

"What if I spent the day with you? Do you have somewhere to sleep here?"

He brought his mouth back to my own, slamming down on it so hard, our teeth clattered. There was some pain, but it was lost beneath the taste and smell of Eric. He picked me up and my legs instinctively wrapped the rest of the way around him.

Well, that argument wasn't as frustrating as I was expecting.

I barely registered that he'd crossed the small office and was standing in front of the wall of filing cabinets. After typing a long series of numbers in to a keypad that wasn't there when I walked in, I heard a whirring and a loud click. With one arm supporting me, he used the other to yank on the top handle of the cabinet, which somehow swung open all four drawers on one hinge like a magic, metal cupboard.

If I weren't so distracted by the bulging appendage planted right _there _between my legs, all this would have been fascinating.

Behind the cabinet was a tiny hallway, too small for Eric to walk through with me strapped onto him, so I climbed down—reluctantly—grabbed his hand, and followed as he led me inside. The instant we stepped over the threshold, a large steel plank descended with a soft clang, locking us in.

The rest of the journey was short. A dim light glowed fifteen or so feet in front of us where I assumed we'd be spending the rest of the day. As we walked, I noticed that Eric was moving slower, more jerky, than I was used to. He must have been exhausted.

The room was small and plain, with cement floors, steel walls, and a large coffin planted in the middle of the floor. If I had to guess, I'd say it was about as wide as a double bed.

"I don't usually sleep here," he explained, as if he were afraid I'd be put off by the lack of décor.

I just nodded and stared at the coffin, suddenly a little apprehensive about sleeping in a tiny box. I wasn't afraid of much, but small spaces was definitely up there with drowning and bees. But that small space was where Eric would be. What choice did I have?

Eric flipped the lid of the coffin open, revealing Egyptian cotton sheets and large pillows on the far end. "I'll leave the lid open so you can breathe. This is the most secure room in the building, so we should be safe."

I nodded and smiled, thankful that he'd had enough of his wits to think of the things I hadn't even considered.

He climbed in, then supported my arms as I fought off the jitters and stepped in after him. The coffin was surprisingly comfortable—more so than my own bed at home—conforming to my body almost instantly when I lied down. As soon as my head met the pillow, I became all too aware of just how tired I was. It had been a _very_ long day.

Eric lay down behind me, wrapping his arms tight around my middle. I wiggled against him, trying to move even closer, but it still wasn't enough contact for me. Before he died completely, I pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him.

His chest vibrated against mine, and I was seconds from unconsciousness the instant my head came to rest on his shoulder. Eric's cool body beneath my own was infinitely more soothing than the softest mattress in creation. I was asleep within seconds.

00

Once my eyes shut, I didn't move until after sunset. I woke to a crick in my neck thanks to the unconventional pillow and to a pair of long fingers stroking the backs of my legs. I froze, feeling the beginning of a very dangerous knot twisting deep in my gut.

It didn't take long for those fingers to grow braver in their exploration and to move much higher up my leg, pushing aside the thin pink cotton of my underwear—the last stitch of clothing between us. Eric must have known I was awake, because his other hand carefully drew my chin from his chest and guided my mouth back to his.

And that was how long it took for us to pick up exactly where we'd left off earlier that morning.

We didn't speak. There was nothing to say. The only thing between us was an impossible pull we couldn't fight. Foot, water, hygiene—forget about it. All I wanted was to devour the man pressed against my body.

When his fingers gained entry into my body, I had to break the kiss so I could cry out. His touch was cool, but it made me burn. Slowly, they twisted in and out, pressing a little deeper every time. I whimpered against him, trying to keep my body still so his fingers could continue their excellent work.

His rhythm of choice was painfully slow, drawing the burn out as long as possible. I tried to fight the urge to throw myself back on his hand by biting and sucking at his chest, which earned me an occasional flick of the wrist that had me seeing rainbows and unicorns.

Just when I couldn't take it anymore, Eric's mouth was against my ear whispering "Come for me, Sookie." Then his fingers curled to that magic spot I'd only read about on the covers of dirty magazines in the check-out line at Walmart.

My body went rigid as the orgasm slammed into me while Eric's fingers remained tightly pressed right _there_, drawing out the waves of molten pleasure.

I couldn't form words. Just screams and moans.

When it was over, instead of feeling sated, I was hungrier than ever to sample everything he had to offer me. Pride be damned.

Without my telling them to, both my hands slid down his chest to grasp his girth, which was massive and full, pressed against his abdomen.

"I need you," I whispered, then leaned down to flick his nipple with my tongue. "Now."

Eric looked at me, the desire shooting from his eyes into mine like lasers. I could feel his body tense up beneath me and watched as his tongue circled his perfect pink lips.

I was on the verge of sitting up and repositioning myself to get us started when Eric wrapped his arms around my waist, keeping me right where I was.

"I would love nothing more than to fuck you senseless right now," he said.

"Then do it." My voice had an uncharacteristic note of pleading embedded inside it. I fought against his hold, struggling to sit up and slide down his body to put him where I needed him.

Eric groaned and tightened his grip. "Don't tempt me."

Was he actually saying no? After all the scheming and plotting to get me away from Bill and into his bed, he wasn't going to go through with it? I was handing myself over, all of me, just short of having a big, red bow on top of my head, and he'd decided that now of all times he was going to be a gentleman.

If I were in my right mind, I would have gone off on him like a loaded gun, but I wasn't. So I whined instead.

With my bottom lip stuck out and my eyes stretched extra wide, I said. "Don't you want me anymore?"

Eric's eyes narrowed as he looked up at me. Then, in a movement so fast, I couldn't see it, I was pinned beneath him, his arms steel bars on either side of my head.

"In a thousand years, I have never wanted anything so much. You are exquisite and I have no intention of letting you leave this room until I have memorized every freckle, every mark on your skin. But I will not lie with you."

My heart was vibrating against my rib cage. "Why not?"

"Because if I took you right now, it would not be because you chose me. But because of the curse."

"God, I need you so much." I wiggled against him, not caring that he wanted to wait. Despite how the previous night began, getting over Eric was the last thing on my mind. I needed to feel what it was like for him to be inside me, damn it.

Adjusting his weight to his knees, which were splayed on either side of my hips, two large hands descended around me to hold me still. "And I need you just as badly, but we'll both regret it once this is all over."

"I don't care, Eric." I was flat out begging now. "Please."

"No." He kissed me, which did nothing to loosen the coils forming in my lower body. "When you come to me, it will be for no other reason than because you truly want it. I refuse to let any curse or bond take that from me."

"But I _do_ want you!" I whined.

"No, lover." Another kiss, this one strong enough to pull goosebumps to the surface of every inch of my skin. "You don't."

I arched up into him again, my eyes shut. Breathing wasn't coming naturally anymore, and I had to remind myself to inhale and exhale. "You're killing me."

As soon as the words left my mouth, his body locked above me, and his mouth became a grim line. Carefully, as if he might break me, he brushed some of the piles of hair away from my face.

"Please don't say things like that. The last thing I want is to cause you pain." His cool hands drifted down my arms and his fingers laced with min. "Besides I won't be able to resist you if you keep it up."

The space between my legs was drenched. Every time he spoke, another sticky wave would coat my skin. It would be so easy for him to simply slide in as deep as anyone had ever gone . . .

My skin was literally burning for him. I needed him, all of him, needed to know that he was real, needed to know that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I didn't care about the curse. Being denied was pure agony, and now that I'd found his weakness, I couldn't stop myself. I had to have him.

"It hurts me that you won't give me what I need."

"Sookie—"

"Everything burns when I'm away from you. Please make it stop. I can't take it anymore . . ."

I don't know if it was because I'd guilted him into it or because he just wanted to shut me up, but he shifted his position enough to settle between my spread legs. I could feel his massive tip pressed against my entrance like a small fist.

Both of us groaned, and his head dropped to my shoulder.

With a movement so subtle, I could have imagined it, he began to slide in, my wetness making it easy even for someone with his size. Anticipation and want mixed with the thick smell of sex in the air while his eyes dug into mine. God, he was so big, and I already felt stretched. He was growling above me, apparently enjoying himself as much as I was.

Just as his tip breeched my center, my ears managed to pluck the sound of loud pieces of moving metal followed by the slow, deliberate footsteps of a pair of expensive shoes. Eric froze, some of the lust fading from his eyes.

"When I said to fix Eric, that did not give you permission to kidnap him."

For crying out loud, of all times for her to come barging in . . .

I closed my eyes and willed Pam to leave, but she just stood there, tapping her foot on the cement and waiting to be acknowledged. I was too pissed off to bother with any useless emotions like shame or pride.

"What are you doing here?" I asked through clenched teeth.

Eric was silent and his eyes were pressed shut. If he still breathed, I'd imagine he'd have been panting.

"Sorry, Sookie," she sneered. "As much as I hate to interrupt your little tryst, my master has a lot to do tonight."

"What do you want, Pam?" he finally spoke up. At least he had the decency to sound annoyed.

"There's a naked shifter in your office—"

"Sam!" I exclaimed. Even from my position beneath Eric in the coffin, I could see her glare at me, dropping her hand against a jutted hip. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes and continued.

"Yes. That one. And he's demanding that he speak to you." She pointed her eyes at me to let me know she didn't appreciate delivering my messages, then turned them to the man on top of me. "And Chow picked up on Bill's scent outside the bar. It would appear he's crawled out of whatever hole he's been hiding in."

Eric began grumbling in a language I didn't understand and Pam reciprocated. Apparently, whatever they were talking about was too private for my ears, so I entertained myself by licking and sucking my way across his collar bone. Bill's return didn't bother me one bit. Right now, nothing could get me.

Before long, Eric put an end to whatever conversation he was having and dipped his head back to my shoulder so hid lips could get back to work. A few seconds later, those lips were back on mine and my tongue was rubbing against his fangs.

We continued like that for several minutes, both of us forgetting that Pam was in the room. At least we had until she hauled him off of me and all out slapped him in the face. That got both of our attention. For a few long seconds, the only sounds were the echoes of the blow while Eric leveled an impressive glare at Pam.

His face was contorted into some the dangerous creature I knew dwelled inside him, but Pam just stood there calmly. I didn't think she'd ever strike her maker, but I guess if the occasion called for it . . .

"Well at least I know you're still in there somewhere." Her smirk was thin and forced, and her voice was tinged with an eerie hint of worry. "What's happened to you, master?"

He shook his head, his expression relaxing into something more familiar, as he brought himself back. "Thank you, Pam. We'll be in my office shortly."

So much for spending the night in bed.

After a moment, she nodded, unperturbed that he'd ignored her question, then disappeared down the tiny hallway, her footsteps the only sound until they too faded.

I turned to Eric, hoping to fall back into his arms like I had after every other interruption, but he pulled away from me. Even the short distance between us was enough to make my skin itch all over.

"Come." He stepped out of the coffin then turned to help me do the same. After my feet were both standing on the cold cement, he kept my hand in his and led me back down the hallway we'd entered several hours earlier, both of us still wearing nothing but a tan—well, at least in my case.

When we got to the entrance, he turned to face me. "Do you want to wait here while I find you something to put on?"

"I thought you liked me like this," I said, squirming up to him so that every inch of my exposed skin rubbed against his.

"Of course I do. If I had my way, you'd never get dressed again." His hands wrapped around my lower back. "But I don't want what's mine to be on such brazen display for someone else."

It wasn't a difficult question. The answer should have been yes, but I considered momentarily embracing the nudist lifestyle because I didn't know if I could handle being away from him for the few seconds it would take to find me a shirt. Borderline pathetic, if you ask me.

"Yeah," I agreed, for no other reason than to spite myself. "I'll be fine here."

"I'll be back in a moment." He kissed my forehead for good measure, than pressed another series of numbers in a keypad I was too short to see. A second later, the same whirring and clanking noises echoed in the hallway and the steel slab disappeared, allowing Eric to vanish into his office. Soon after he left, the slab slid down, sealing me inside the panic room.

Muffled voices sounded angry through the six inches of steel, and I forced myself to focus on the conversation to distract myself from the horrible yearning in my chest. Too bad the words were too muffled for me to make out.

The conversation was short, no more than a few seconds, but it was long enough to hold my attention until the entrance slid open revealing Eric, still naked, with a dress shirt clutched in his hand. The hitch in my chest relaxed as soon as I could touch him.

He held the shirt open for me to slide my arms into. "You seemed to have worried your shifter boss quite a bit."

"Was that who you were fighting with out there?"

I felt him nod behind me.

"Apparently he's been looking for you all day." His words were warm on my neck and his hands lingered on my body long after my arms had slipped into the sleeves of the pressed blue shirt. Lust seemed to be radiating into my body directly from his hands. "He followed your scent into my office and has been waiting there since."

Before I could answer—and by answer, I mean instigate another steamy petting session—the door slid open behind me. This time I hadn't even seen him punch in the code.

I sighed and followed him out into the office, completely unprepared to see my boss, naked as a newborn, pacing the length of the room. Add that to Eric's immodesty and the fact that I was wearing nothing but a men's button down, and we had a potentially awkward situation on our hands.

"Sookie," Sam called, coming toward me when I stepped out of the filing cabinet. I quickly dropped my eyes to the floor to avoid seeing anything I didn't want to. I'd endured Sam naked a couple times before, but it definitely wasn't something I was too keen to repeat. He was my boss, after all.

"Hey, Sam," I twiddled my fingers and ducked behind my hand.

"Where've you been?" he asked. "I've been trying to get to you since these assholes split us up last night."

Poor Sam. He must have been out of his mind during my little . . . session with Eric. I turned my head to look at the offending party and was immediately greeted with yet another blistering wave of wanton lust.

"I'm sorry about that." I tried to sound sincere, but Eric had gripped both my arms and was sliding his hands up and down, creating a series of very distracting emotions. "I just had to talk to Eric . . ."

Sam eyeballed all my skin that was on display and said, "Yeah, it looks like you guys had a real nice conversation."

At that, Eric tensed up and spoke up. "Watch yourself, shifter."

"No, _you _watch yourself," he countered. "I care about this girl a lot, and

I'm done sitting back and watching you people turn her life to shit."

Uh oh. This was going to get very ugly very fast. I grabbed Eric's hand and squeezed, trying to placate him, but I might as well have been on the other side of the room for all the good it did. This was not a happy vampire.

He was itching for a fight, ad based on the murder in his eyes whenever he looked in my boss' direction, it looked like he was getting ready to start one.

"Sookie is no long your concern. We've discussed the situation, and she will be remaining with me for the time being. You may go now." Eric dismissed him with an arrogant wave of his hand.

Yup. He was definitely trying to pick a fight.

Sam's eyes were wide as he just swept in and took the bait. "_No_. I promised her that I would keep her safe and help her through this, which is exactly what I'm going to do."

"Sam, I—" I started but Eric interrupted me.

"I am all Sookie needs now. She has no more use for you."

I closed my eyes and felt a minor bout of anger rumbling toward Eric but nothing more. It was physically impossible for me to get upset with him. But that didn't stop the room from getting any smaller thanks to all the clashing egos and personalities. Truth be told, I was amazed I could still fit in that tiny office with all the waves of animosity coming off both men. They glared at each other, waiting for the other to crack—a naked man show down.

Once it was obvious that he wasn't going to get through to Eric, Sam turned to me. "You're really going to let him make all your decisions for you?" His voice had a note of sadness in it.

I blinked.

He was right. I might have been caught up in some kind of whirlwind with Eric, but who the hell did he think he was speaking for me like that?

I turned to face the solid wall of muscle behind me, this time more determined than ever to let him know that he'd crossed a line. It was the closest I'd come to being in my right mind since I came here, then one quirked eyebrow was all it took to wash that progress away like dust in a soft rain.

Instead, I ended up throwing myself at him, catching his lips with my own. I couldn't help it. Really. He was so close, and he smelled so delicious, and I still wanted him like a drug addict needed a fix.

Eric responded in kind, lifting me off the floor and pulling my legs around his waist. His tongue was frantic in my mouth, seeking out every crevice and cranny and awakening yet another level of my desire.

All thoughts of Sam and our predicament fell out of my head when Eric adjusted his hands so that they began to roam beneath my shirt—his shirt.

We moved over to the couch so we'd have better access to each other, and the moment we sat down, I reached between us to grasp Eric at the base, stroking upwards, unable to keep my hands off him anymore.

Eric moaned and his head fell to the back of the couch with his eyes shut when I began to stroke him, grasping with both hands to make sure every inch got its due attention. He was heavy and thick in my hand.

It wasn't until I felt a warm pressure on my shoulder that I even remembered what had happened before we ended up sprawled on his couch. Shame poked at my gut, but there really wasn't enough to concern me; it was more of a suggestion than anything else.

When I turned to look at Sam, making sure to keep my hands busy, his eyes had an extra glassy look to them.

"What did he do to you?"

Eric's eyes flew open as soon as the silence was broken, and his arm shot out with an impossible speed, shoving Sam against the desk hard enough to splinter some of its wooden frame.

"Unless you wish for me to remove your arms from your body, you will not touch her again. She is mine."

And we were back in fight mode.

Three things happened in quick succession, fast enough that I didn't have time to think. Instead of answering, Sam lunged back at Eric, a pointed shard from the desk clutched in his raised hand. He yelled something reminiscent of "cocksucker," and I threw myself across Eric's chest to shield him. Dying for his sake wasn't even an option. It just was.

Luckily, Sam still had enough control to drop the pseudostake before any more damage could be done. As it was, they'd already lost any ground they'd gained during the whole Lempo ordeal.

Eric's eyes were red with fury as he carefully picked me off of his chest and set me down on the cushion next to him. Once I was out of the way, he stood tall, his alabaster skin shimmering slightly, and stepped toward Sam.

Knowing all too well what he had in mind, I stood up and reached for his arm. "Eric, stop."

He ignored me.

"Don't hurt him—"

"Don't worry about me, Sook," Sam interjected, crouching low to the ground and bracing for the fight. "I can take him."

I shot Sam a look to let him know he was being an idiot then turned back to Eric. "Sam's my friend," I said. "He's only trying to protect me."

But still, he pressed forward.

Remembering how I'd finally gotten Eric to relent back in the panic room, I said. "If you hurt Sam, you'll hurt me."

He froze.

I took a chance and stepped in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist and trying to bring him back to me. My lips began sucking and pressing on his chest and sternum for some extra encouragement. After a few minutes, I felt his own arms come around and press me tighter against him.

Seeing that the situation was diffused for the time being, Sam spoke up. "Okay, someone tell me what the fuck is going on here."

"I have it under control, shifter." Eric said. His voice was still hard.

"Like hell you do," he barked and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, crossing his legs and hiding some of his nakedness in the process. Gesturing to us with a flailing arm, he said, "Both of you can't control yourselves enough to keep it in your pants for a couple minutes. How are you supposed to come up with a plan if you never come up for air?"

Sam was dead on. Already each of us had foregone those basic necessities tat kept us going in favor of engulfing each other. Like rest and food. My stomach rumbled in agreement.

"What happened to you two?" he asked, after letting his words sink in.

Eric and I were back on the couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and my leg thrown over his knee. We really did have to figure this out. I couldn't live like this. My old life had been taken from me, and the longer I waited to take it back, the harder it would be to find. It scared me how easily I could forget where I came from, who I was. Eric and I had to pull ourselves together fight to stay focused.

But then our eyes met, and all my resolve turned to goo. Shit.

Just as I was about to relay to Sam everything Eric had told me, the door swung open and Pam strolled in clad in something skintight, black, and shiny.

Of course, she noticed that pretty much everyone was naked, and her eyes locked on mine. "Well, this looks like a fun party. Why wasn't I invited?"

"Not now, Pam." Eric's grip on my tightened a little bit.

"My apologies, master, but this can't wait."

Eric's fingers were drawing little circles at the base of my neck, and his gaze never left mine. "What is it?"

"Bill is here with some of the Queen's retinue." Eric's fingers froze. "He wants to see you."

**Finally. An update. Progress. Sort of? Geez, yeah, I know, took long enough…Hopefully this one was worth the wait?**

**For what it's worth, I'm going to be focusing on this story for awhile, so updates should be more regular. **

**Up next: Bill's involvement will be revealed.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Firstly, thank you guys so much for all your reviews last chapter! I wasn't sure anyone was still reading due to my major update failing. **

**Viking snuggles for everyone! **

When Eric lifted himself off the soft leather of the couch, he pulled me up with him, careful to not break our contact. I hadn't gone more than a few seconds without touching him. Whether I'd been sitting on his lap or just holding his hand, he was always nearby, stroking, gripping, or holding. I wasn't sure I could stave off the compulsion to feel his skin on mine much longer than that. It was like trying to fight gravity.

His voice was low and dangerous when he spoke, and his arm was strong, pulling against my waist, keeping me close.

"Bring him in."

Pam arched an eyebrow that sad Eric's decision wouldn't have been her first choice, but she turned to leave anyway until Sam spoke up.

"Just hold on a second!"

She turned to face him, one hand on the brass doorknob and her upper lip pulled into a sneer. "I don't recall anyone here telling you to speak."

Sam ignored her and redirected his attention to me and Eric. "We need to think about this before we just throw ourselves into a whole new shitstorm, and it starts with you two getting your act together. If Bill's out there with the Queen's vampires, after you've been looking everywhere for him, then I'm betting they've got something up their sleeves."

Eric pulled his attention away from teasing the curves and dips of my ear with one light fingertip long enough to tell Sam to continue. At least he was paying attention. I'd zoned out after "shitstorm" thanks to the music of that one cool finger. Even breathing at regular intervals was a challenge.

"Right now you guys are a hot mess." Sam continued. "They cannot come in here and see you two falling all over each other like a couple of drunk teenagers." He looked right at Eric.

I wanted to protest, but after looking around at all the skin on display in the room, my own included, I was starting to see Sam's point. We at least had to make an effort to act like things were okay.

"What we need is control, or to fake it, at least. Take a shower, get dressed. Sookie, when was the last time you ate?"

I shrugged and slid my other arm around Eric's waist, my head resting on solid expanse of his chest.

"Go get her a sandwich or something," he said to Pam.

She opened her mouth to start what looked like one hell of a "who do you think you are?" speech, but he only turned up the volume of his own voice.

"Bill's after something and we can't give him anything. So do whatever you got to to pull yourselves together. There's not much time."

I never would have pegged Sam as any kind of master strategist—Eric usually wore that hate—but he stepped into the role like he did it everyday. Lucky for us.

Before running off to do Sam's bidding, Pam looked to Eric for his final say. He nodded his assent and said something in Swedish before switching to English.

"And, Pam, make sure you find something appropriate for Sookie to wear. As much as I enjoy seeing her in my clothes, I don't think they're something she would have chosen on her own."

The entire time he spoke, his played the collar of my/his shirt, fingering it between his thumb and index finger. He wasn't even touching me and I could feel the wetness sliding down my thighs. I squeezed and rubbed them together to try and quell the flood, but it didn't help. Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to rip the material off my body and attach myself to his.

Never one to pass up a good leer, Pam eyeballed my body throughout my pseudo-meltdown. "I have just the outfit. And don't worry about Bill. I've kept people waiting before. I know how it's done."

I guessed that last part had something to do with their previous, Swedish conversation.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Good. Better for them to look like they're busy."

When my mind finally got up to speed with the situation, I realized that Pam had just been assigned the task of picking out my impending wardrobe. All the bad news coming my way, and that was the scariest thing I'd heard all night. I could just imagine the constrictive leather with gaps in all kinds of inappropriate places. Ugh. Maybe I was a little out of sorts right now, but I was still a lady, damn it. There had to be some dignity left in me . . . somewhere.

But then my gaze was drawn to Eric's and I realized that we were moments away from showering together.

Fuck dignity.

"Go get cleaned up, Sook," Sam said, but I didn't have the will to break eye contact with Eric. "I'll be around."

I didn't say anything as Eric led me away.

That office seemed to have no shortage of hidden treasures. As soon as Pam had shut the door behind her, he pulled me into the far corner where there was a door camouflaged to look like a wall. He had even gone so far as to hang on it a framed picture of what looked to be an ocean in the middle of a blizzard. The waves were angry and I couldn't tell the difference between the foam from the salt and the snowfall. An old ship was fighting the waves far off in the distance.

Eric caught me looking and said, "It's the North Sea. I spent a lot of my time as a human near there."

"It looks . . . cold."

Eric pulled one of those sexy, half smiles that made me swoon. "Only in the winter. And we had ways to keep warm."

Oh, my.

After a wistful, nostalgic moment, he swung the door open and guided me into a bathroom just large enough to fit a bathtub and, surprisingly enough, a toilet and vanity.

The instant my eyes settled over that ceramic bowl, I received a swift kick in the gut circa my bladder, the force of it almost bowling me over. Though it had been more than twenty-four hours since I had drunk anything, it was extremely displeased nonetheless. Steamy, wet, naked time with Eric was going to have to be put on hold, at least for the moment.

"I'm going to need a minute," I said glancing at the toilet so he would know what I was referring to.

He hesitated, and I could see that he was toying with the idea of staying anyway. I tried not to think about the fact that I would have felt better if he did hang around. But he didn't. Instead he kissed me hard, like it was our last one, and turned to leave.

"I'll be right outside."

"I won't be long."

It actually took my breath away to close him out of the tiny room, and I rushed to take care of business as fast as possible. I needed to lose myself in his arms again. After washing my hands, I turned on the faucet in the tub, letting him know it was safe to return as I did so. A second later, Eric was pressed against my back, tearing his shirt off my body just like I'd pictured a few minutes earlier. I hadn't even heard the door open.

With the amount of time we spent in that shower, I probably could have washed and deep-conditioned my hair, shaved my legs, and given myself a good mani-pedi—twice. But it was, hands down, the best bathing experience of my life.

Eric made sure to wash every, single, inch of me, including my hair, his long fingers pulling a blush of warmth across my skin. I did my best to return the favor, but he was so much taller than me that it was hard to reach his own soft, yellow strands. Still, we made do.

When we finally emerged from the bathroom, the office was empty save for a pile of clothes on the corner of the desk, set right net to a large sandwich, two bottles of TrueBlood, and a bottle of water.

Bracing for the worst, I held up the dreaded ensemble while Eric watched, his expression hard to read, but instead of the skin-tight pleather getup I was expecting, the clothes were a fairly tame black camisole and denim miniskirt. Not something I would have picked out on my own, but it was definitely not as awful as I'd been imagining. She even remembered underwear.

After I secured the button on the skirt and tried to pull the thin band of fabric further down my legs, I shivered as an approving growl grazed the tiny hairs on my ear. When I turned around, Eric was clad in a crimson t-shirt and a faded pair of jeans that hung far too low on his hips. Before I could stop myself, I dragged my nails across his shoulders and down his chest, gripping the denim waistband.

It wasn't long before we were buried in each other once again. Even though our lips had only broken apart in the shower long enough to let me breathe, they couldn't help getting sucked back in again. God help me, I was addicted. Addicted to his taste, like mulberries. To his smell, like earth and wind. To his touch, like gentle fire. I would have been happy to stay right there for the rest of the night—Bill be damned—but Eric had other plans.

"Eat your sandwich," he said, his lips lightly brushing mine one last time. "You need your strength."

Sighing, I slid into his chair, taking the sandwich with me and looking it over before diving in. While Pam may have exceeded my expectations in the clothing arena, her idea of a sandwich was another story. She must have dumped whatever condiment and bar snack she could find between two slices of stale bread. There was catsup, miracle whip and horseradish sauce and, for some added texture, peanuts and trail mix.

I gaped up at Eric, who had just twisted off the cap of one of his TrueBloods, but he just shrugged and started to swallow the syrupy liquid, cold.

What else could I do? It had been forever since I'd eaten, and I _was_ starving, and technically everything in that concoction was edible . . .

I took a bite and almost choked. It tasted even worse than I was expecting, like sewage. Sewage and pond scum muddled together and tossed on a plate. At least it had some protein. That would keep me going for a while. So long as I didn't throw it up.

As I waged war with my gag reflex and forced some more of the sewage sandwich down my throat, Eric finished his first bottle of blood and took the opportunity to prepare us for the upcoming reunion.

"The shifter is right," he said, taking a swig of the second half of his meal. "We cannot afford to look weak in front of the Queen's minions. We're already at her mercy; losing any more ground would not be prudent."

I nodded and took a swig of the water to try and coax the lump of chewed up gross that was lodged in my throat. The instant the cool liquid hit my tongue, my head cleared a little of its Eric-induced fog, making the idea of putting some distance between us a little easier to bear. Halleluiah.

"The best way to handle this would be for me to treat you like a pet. You will sit on my lap, but there will be no other physical contact. Don't speak to me or to anyone—even Bill—unless someone asks you a direct question. I expect for this to be nothing more than a summons to the Queen's court, but we have to be prepared in case it's something else."

I took another bite, forcing myself to pay attention to what he was saying as rather than the rebelling bile in my throat.

"Why else would she send Bill here/?" I asked, swallowing.

Eric hesitated, and I saw his jaw clench once, the skin around his cheekbones tightening. "I don't know."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that he was lying, but I wasn't going to press him. He was right. Whatever reason Bill had to be here, we needed to focus if we were going to come out on top, and if that meant pretending to be Eric's new plaything, then so be it. I'd done more shameful things for less.

We were silent after that while I struggled to get down a few more bites of my dinner. Eric had come to stand behind me, his strong hand rubbing my shoulders and the back of my neck. Eating was fast losing its precedence in the scheme of things.

Just as we were about to have another sexual fit on top of each other, Pam swept into the room to save us, not bothering to knock.

"Oh, good, you're dressed!" She beamed at us. "Tell me, Sookie, how do you like your sandwich?" She pronounced sandwich like it was a lost word from an ancient language.

I swallowed the half-chewed mass of food in my mouth and attempted a smile in her direction. "Very good."

The Southern manners in me refused to give any other answer.

"I read a book about human nutrition once. It said that every meal should have a balance between carbohydrates, proteins, and fats."

"Yeah, well, I think you hit all that and them some here." I raised the food in cheers and would have groaned as I brought it back to my face had I not stifled myself with the offending material.

She smiled at me like a proud mother hovering over her child while it plunked out _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ on the piano until every last crumb was gone. Now all I had to do was keep it down.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, finally noticing that he wasn't there. Eric had since finished his second bottle of blood and had perched on the side of my chair, his arm now draped across my back.

"Oh, he's around," Pam smirked. "He shifted and is hiding out in your clothing in case Bill's plan is to kidnap you. If I were you I'd be careful of shoving anything into your pockets. Unless of course you want to kill him." Not only did she tell me this with a straight face, but her tone was as casual as if she were giving me gardening tips.

"_He's in my pocket?_" I jumped out of the chair, arms raised to my sides just in case they inadvertently threatened the life of my boss.

She shrugged. "Yes. When you and Eric were . . . freshening up, he asked me to put him there and then shifted into one of those creepy crawly things you humans are so afraid of."

"Oh, God . . ."

Eric came up behind me again, his large hands gripping my bare shoulders. "Relax, lover," he said. "This is a smart move. Besides, I have no plans of letting you leave this room unless it's with me."

I nodded and tried to breathe, but I couldn't help but feel a little queasy at the thought of Sam being so vulnerable. If I so much as bumped into the desk, I could kill him, and it would be my fault. His life was my responsibility.

Luckily, I didn't have to dwell on that fact for long. Pam had decided to speak up then, letting us know that we'd kept Bill waiting long enough.

"Take your positions. I'll go fetch the cretin." Just as she was about to pull open the door and leave, she turned to face us, her finger raised in warning. "Remember . . . behave yourselves."

Her hips swung like a pendulum all the way out into the hallway.

Since the water had helped clear my head before, I finished the bottle in three gulps before settling on Eric's knee. He pressed a reassuring kiss to the side of my head, but neither of us spoke. Even with the relief of the water, it was basically all we could do not to throw ourselves down on the desk right there, which was still splintered and ruined where Eric had thrown Sam into it. That was going to be fun to explain.

Not a minute later, Pam walked back into the room, leading Bill who was followed by one massive ogre of a vampire with a full, red beard and a sword. Why someone so large and intimidating would need a sword was beyond me, but there it was. Bill had the nerve to look cocky. His companion just looked plain mean.

They both swept into the office like it was theirs and not at all like Eric had been hunting Bill for the past few months. I scowled as he nodded at us. He seemed a little surprised by my position on Eric's knee but said nothing.

I had no reaction to seeing my exlover at all. It was like our entire history had been wiped clean. Like he'd never come into Merlotte's that night, and like he'd never fed me his blood. I owed nothing to him and expected nothing in return; essentially, we were complete strangers. He still looked like a jerk, though.

"Sheriff."

Eric returned the nod and gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat."

"Thank you." Together, he and the mammoth man sat beside each other. "I don't think I have to tell you that Siegbert is here for my protection."

"Of course," was Eric's only response before redirecting his gaze. "That will be all, Pam."

She looked like she was going to argue but caught herself and did as she was told. "Yes, Master."

And there we were: alone with Bill, his bodyguard, and our own rapidly depleting sense of sanity—unless you counted Sam in bug form, of course. Really, how could anything go wrong?

Eric broke the silence first. "What do you want, Compton?"

I could feel his voice rumbling between my legs and I shifted, a very specific type of uncomfortable. When Eric began to gently bounce the knee I was sitting on, I knew he was feeling the tension, too. I told myself that this behavior was not a big deal. Better to relieve a little bit of pressure at a time than to hold it all in until you explode. My legs parted unconsciously, and Eric's hand came to rest on my thigh.

"Sophie-Anne sent me," Bill said. "She head that Lempo had been in possession of Sookie and that she'd survived. She was quite impressed."

I bit my tongue hard enough for a wave of blood to pour into my mouth. How_ dare _she? She was the one who sent Lempo and put me in my own personal hell for weeks. I'd never met her and she seemed hell-bent on destroying my life. Bitch. If we ever met, you could bet that there would be words.

"Sookie is doing very well. Please thank the Queen for her concern." Eric's voice was smooth and relaxed, but I could feel the tension straining in his body. He was just as pissed as I was.

When Bill turned to look at me, I didn't bother hiding my burning rage. "Is this true, Sookie? You're well?" His eyes burned against me. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn he was trying to glamour me.

I made sure to put a little extra venom into my response. "Yes. No thanks to you."

His expression remained stoic as ever, but his hesitation was clear. "I regret that I wasn't there for you," he said after a moment.

"You weren't missed. Sookie was well taken care of." Eric answered for me, his grip on my leg tightening almost to the point of pain. I began to stroke his thigh, doing my best to be comforting, but my breathing was becoming shallower each time I inhaled. I hadn't expected the stark contrast of his white hand on my tan leg to be such a turn-on.

"Yes, I can see that. It would seem she is _still_ being well taken care of. Tell me, Sookie, do you enjoy catering to your master's whims? Are you proud of being his personal whore?"

I gaped. I didn't know what else to do. Stranger, exboyfriend, whatever, you do not make comments like that to someone and walk away from it. If Eric's lap weren't so comfortable, I would have slapped him until he was a crying, bleeding mess. There was no way I could let him get away with it. But what could I say? Nothing came to mind that wasn't a bunch of petty, whiny crap. So I went for the next best thing and gave into my other, much more pressing, urge.

"Yes, Bill. I do. I enjoy it _very_ much." I gave him a pointed look then turned my head, pulling Eric's attention over to me and leaned in. It was just going to be a soft, quick kiss, only long enough to irk Bill. I was still in complete control of my reactions . . .

His lips parted the instant we made contact, and I quickly lost myself in his taste, which was intermixed with the sharp, coppery tang of the TrueBlood. I moaned and his arms moved up from my waist to pull me closer to him.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I had overestimated our self-control. What I had intended to be a short display of affection was quickly becoming a scene from a porno. At some point, Eric's hands were under my tank top and mine were in his lap. When he broke away to pay attention to the neglected skin on my neck, I began to pant, my fingers clinging to him as if letting go would cut the last fragile string of my sanity.

At some point, my legs had adjusted themselves to straddle his waist, and our hips had just begun to grind against each other when I felt myself yanked out of Eric's arms and dragged across the room. It happened too fast for it to hurt me physically, but that didn't stop the huge wrenching inside my chest as soon we'd been separated.

Not a second later, Eric was at my side and my heart felt better, even with his fangs extended and his expression a snarl. "Let her go, Compton."

Bill's grip on my arm tightened, and I couldn't stop the tiny whimper that escaped.

"She is mine." The only part of his face that moved were his lips. Everything else was clamped down and frozen.

Eric moved so fast even Bill didn't have time to react. Suddenly, I was safely behind a wall of Viking, my arm already starting to bruise. When I looked up, Eric had him pressed against the wall, hissing, while Siegbert sat unconcerned on the couch. I almost asked him why he wasn't doing his job, but then I saw that Bill had wiggled an arm free and was pressing his cuff into the side of Eric's face. It wasn't until I saw smoke up from his face that I realized he must have had been wearing silver cufflinks or something of the sort.

The room filled with the pungent stench of burnt flesh, and I didn't think before throwing myself at Bill, intent on removing his arm from the rest of him, but was deflected when Eric pivoted to block me. He didn't seem to notice the burns, only adjusted himself further to press his forearm hard enough against Bill's throat for something to crack and for a stream of blood to start trickling from his mouth.

Siegbert still seemed perfectly content to sit there on the couch and let the situation play out as it may. Lasseiz-faire security detail. He looked like he was enjoying the big fight on a Saturday night. It wasn't until I tried to get involved again that he interfered.

I had barely taken a step toward them when Siegbert came up behind me and pinned my arms to my sides, holding me in place. I might as well have been caught in a steel straightjacket for all the good my wiggling and struggling did me.

"Eric," I called, more because I was worried for him than because I needed help. Siegbert's grip may have been strong, but it wasn't painful and his intentions only seemed to be keeping me out of the others' way. So much for being _Bill's_ bodyguard.

When Eric turned to see me in yet another vampire's grip, his bloodlust climbed to new heights. All his animosity toward Bill deflected toward Siegbert, the rage bright enough to make his eyes glow.

"Release her."

"Not until you are calm." Siegbert's accent was thick and difficult to place. German, maybe?

"She has nothing to fear from me. You, however, do not have that luxury. This is your last warning."

I felt a jerk, and then Siegbert's gleaming silver sword was pressed against Eric's throat. The tendons in his neck were stretched and taught as I saw yet another coil of smoke winding into the air from where the tip of the metal pressed against flesh. My heart stopped for several seconds before picking up again, double time. I struggled harder, fighting to get to Eric, to save him. The burns on his face and neck were too much; I would have pulled every strand of hair out of my head if it meant sparing him pain.

"And this is _your_ last warning, Viking. If you want me to release your human, do as I say."

His eyes were wide and furious and focused on me as he ran through his options. Everything else was silent save for Bill coughing and rubbing his throat in the background.

"Listen to him," I said. I'd gone long enough without feeling his cool hands somewhere on my skin. If Siegbert had demanded that Eric turn over his business to the Queen, I still would have told him to agree. His touch was the only thing that could calm my stampeding heart. I needed him.

Finally, after several tense minutes Eric grit his teeth and took a step back, retracting his fangs.

"Wise decision," Siegbert said then released my arms.

Once I was free, we practically ran at each other like little kids, unable to stand the distance any longer. The whole ordeal must not have been longer than five minutes, and relatively speaking, I'd been in much more dire situations before while keeping a level head, but I'd never been more desperate to feel someone's arms come around me.

Eric's head dipped into my hair, and I heard him breathe me in, causing me to shiver and press myself closer against him. His hands on my body were what grounded me to the room. He was my anchor, my equalizer. After the last twenty-four hours together, we'd crossed a line. We were the other's counterweight, keeping our balance. Without him nearby, I was absolutely certain that I would lose my mind, if not the will to live.

The realization took my breath away, and I leaned into Eric, who was supporting all one hundred and thirty pounds of me. To be so dependent on someone else, especially someone like Eric . . . I had no idea how to even begin processing that.

It took Bill a few minutes to recover, but when he did, he didn't bother hiding the bitterness in his voice. "How could you do this to yourself?"

I was just about to tell him to shove it, but Eric beat me to it.

"You can see for yourself that Sookie is perfectly fine. If that is the only reason you came, then we're done here. Feel free to see yourself out."

He turned his attention back to me, nibbling along my neck. The sensation carried me so far away that I almost didn't hear Bill's response.

"That is not the only reason I came."

Eric's lips froze on my skin. Much to my dismay.

"The Queen has asked me to escort Soo—_Ms. Stackhouse_ to New Orleans this evening."

"_What?_" That was absolutely not happening. I don't care who was in my pocket, it could have been the entire fucking National Guard, I wasn't going anywhere. Not without Eric.

"She would like to see for herself that you are well and to be formally introduced."

Bill shuffled uncomfortably as Eric spared yet another glare in his direction.

"Please inform the Queen that we are pleased to accept her invitation, but due to the late notice, we will not be able to visit until the end of the week." Always the politician.

My grip on Eric's hand was iron. If he had circulation, it would have been cut off, and when I saw Bill's creepy, impish grin, I only squeezed tighter. That smile could only mean bad news.

"This request is for Sookie only. You are not invited."

"I'm not going anywhere without Eric." My voice was hoarse with dread at the idea of being so far away from him. I would die before I let that happen.

"It is the Queen's command—"

"I don't care."

He sighed, unnecessarily and with an added flourish. I rolled my eyes. "Sookie, I must tell you that the Queen has authorized me to use any means necessary—"

"Don't you dare threaten me, Bill Compton. You have no right to just sweep into Eric's business and start handing out orders like we're working for you. I already told you that I'm not going."

Bill paused, running through things in his head. When he finally realized that I was not going to cooperate, he turned to Eric, of all people, as if he'd see things differently. I might not have been sure of much at the moment, but I was certain that Eric needed me as much as I needed him. He wasn't going to let me go any easier than I was going to leave of my own accord.

"Eric, you know that the Queen's orders are absolute. She must be obeyed."

"You heard Sookie," he said. "She will not be going anywhere unaccompanied."

"She is not yours. The Queen does not need your permission."

"And I'm not yours, either," I spoke up, unwilling go without a say. "I'm sick and tired of people ordering me around and treating me like a library book you can loan out to whoever wants me. Where I go, Eric goes. End of story."

Eric rubbed my side affectionately while Bill stood there practically gaping and Siegbert, who had since returned to his post on the couch, looked as bored as ever.

Seeing that neither I nor Eric were going to let him get his way, he turned to the German hulk and asked him to do the dirty work.

"Take her."

Eric roared and threw me behind him, his knees bent, ready to pounce on anyone who so much as looking in our direction, but Siegbert remained still. Only his eyes shifted and only so far as to look at Bill.

"We have to bring the Northman."

Bill looked like someone had just backed over his kitten with a lawn mower. "You heard the Queen. They have to be separated—"

"Her priority is the girl's safe delivery. Eric must come."

**Sorry for the lack of plot advancement for the last few chapters. I wanted to give them a little break before things start getting rough again. **

**Consider this your warning, muahaha. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Finally, we meet the Queen. **

**Just a heads up: My version of Sophie Anne is more than a little different than Alan Ball's interpretation.**

The ride down to New Orleans was fast. Alarmingly fast. Too fast for us to wrap our heads around what the hell we thought we were doing. It seemed like we'd been on the road for a half hour before we were coasting down the off-ramp of Interstate 10 toward the Big Easy. Shit.

We'd left Fangtasia no earlier than one o'clock and were a few minutes outside the city by three-thirty. Every mile we drove, my itch to get the hell out of the limo grew. And not just because Bill had yet to take his eyes off me. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being too cooperative with all this, pulling the lever of our own guillotine, so to speak.

The truth was, even with Eric next to me, I knew going to New Orleans was a bad idea. With this bond still out of control between us, we were basically nothing more than sacrificial lambs hurling ourselves into the lion's den. We had a serious weakness and were willingly going to see the person who set us up. Surely Eric could see how stupid that was.

I looked up through the sunroof at the stars winking overhead, wishing with everything in me that he would give up on this stupid decorum, his need to be in control, and break through that glass with me in his arms. But no. He'd given his word that we would go, so we wouldn't be getting out of the limo until it was parked right outside the Queen's home. Which, at the rate we were driving, was probably only going to be a few minutes from now.

I was pressed as close to Eric as I could get, my fingers tangled in his, but it wasn't nearly enough. I wanted to be in his lap, naked and flush with his body. I wanted for him to be inside me. Finally.

Whatever relief was in that bottle of water I drank back in his office had worn off long ago, and I was being consumed from the inside out. Even I could smell the undiluted waves of lust radiating off me in thick, hot gusts. I wasn't sure I could keep from making an exhibition of myself for much longer.

Eric would barely look at me, so I had no idea how he was handling being confined in this tight, dark compartment and having to keep his hands to himself.

I knew I wasn't handling it well at all, not by any means. Here I was about to hand myself over to scheming vampire royalty, and all I could think about was how even the tiny hairs on our arms seemed to be reaching for each other, both sets standing at attention, straining for contact. Static electricity raced through my body whenever my arm brushed against his.

There hadn't been any time for us to talk before we left Fangtasia, so I was flying into this mess completely blind. I had no idea what the Queen was like, how to behave. Not that I was planning on being a doormat. Queen or not, she was the bitch that put me in this mess.

Pam hadn't wanted us to go, either, which scared me almost as much as seeing Eric with the sword at his throat. She wasn't exactly the type of person to run from a fight. When he'd called her into the office to tell her that he was going away and that she'd need to handle things at the bar, she made up some story about his many pressing appointments in the coming days. It couldn't have been more obvious what she was trying to do, but Eric ignored the warning and simply told her to reschedule them. We were going.

And there we were. Eric and I on one side of the limo, with Bill and Siegbert on the other. No one had moved or spoke since we left, making for an even more tense and uncomfortable ride.

Gradually, the stars shining through the sunroof faded, replaced by the glaring artificial halogens of the city. When I began to see the tops of buildings whizzing through the window, I knew we were almost to the end of our journey.

I clenched Eric's hand in my fist and tried to keep my heart from beating any faster. When he didn't squeeze back, all hope of trying to control my reactions went out the window. Now I wasn't even pretending to come up with a plan. Instead, my energy was focused on keeping me from crawling into his lap and weeping like a two year old in a tantrum.

About ten minutes later, the limo pulled to its first complete stop since we'd started moving, causing Pam's sandwich to threaten a partially digested reappearance. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from announcing how royally fucked we were, and not in a good way.

A quick look at my watch told me we only had about an hour and a half before dawn. Maybe there wouldn't be time for the Queen's diabolic little plan to unfold. Maybe we wouldn't even have to meet her tonight, and we could have some time to regroup before he had to die for the day.

It was desperate, but it was the only piece of hope I had left, and I clung to it like it was my life raft.

A few seconds after we stopped, the door next to Bill swung open. He climbed out first, with Siegbert gesturing for Eric and I to go next. It was clear that we were being herded, closing off all possibilities of escape.

I purposely ignored Bill's outstretched hand waiting for me at the limo's entrance and stumbled gracelessly onto my sidewalk. I had a moment of brief panic after my hip bumped against the door, but when Sam's body didn't suddenly appear naked and bloody next to me, I had to assume he was still alive. That is if he were still in there at all. It seemed so long ago that Pam had told me he was hiding out in my clothing that I wasn't sure if it were real anymore.

Eric exited the limo a second after me and immediately swallowed my hand up inside his fist. I looked to him for any sign of encouragement, but he avoided my gaze. Great. Another good sign.

Siegbert brought up the caboose, somehow squeezing his massive frame through the tiny hole in the side of the limo. It was almost like watching a whale give birth to a gorilla. Awkward and uncomfortable.

Once he reached the sidewalk, he exchanged some kind of silent communication with Bill and gestured for us to start moving down the sidewalk. About a minute later, I got my first good look at the Queen's home.

Despite being in the center of New Orleans, she somehow managed to live on an estate. High fences surrounded what appeared to be acres of grass and old trees.

Two large, wrought iron gates swung open as we approached, inviting us down an unlit path lined with ancient oak trees buried beneath pounds of Spanish moss. If the Queen had been going for that gothic, timeless, eerie atmosphere most people thought of when they pictured vampires, then she nailed it.

The only sound was the gravel crunching under our feet. There were no crickets and even the sounds of the city had faded away. We were completely isolated in the middle of one of the largest cities this side of the Mississippi.

The house itself had at least four stories with lots of tall windows and two large steeples on the east and west ends of the building. What wasn't buried beneath layers of vines and ivy was an old brick laid out in a diamond pattern. I could only imagine what the inside looked like.

My stride slowed when I first saw the old home, trying to give me time to take everything in, but as soon as I fell behind, Eric pulled me back to his side with a gentle yank, his hand releasing mine to slide around my waist. It wasn't exactly more comfortable than holding his hands, but Eric's weight resting against my back did make me feel better. It reminded me that we were still in this together.

Still, by the time we reached the entrance, my heart was an angry jackrabbit beating against my rib cage. Every single one of my instincts was screaming not to go inside. I even went so far as to plant both my feet on the red carpet outside the doorway. Two large meatheads in suits on either side of the entrance, who I could only assume were guards of some sort, didn't bother hiding their fangs when Bill shoved me over the threshold. Inside, I could feel Eric vibrating from the effort to not slaughter him right there in front of the Queen's minions. I wasn't hurt at all, more annoyed that Bill had thought it was necessary to get physical. At least he was smart enough to stay out of Eric's way. The last thing we needed was to meet the Queen with Bill's murder hanging fresh over our heads.

"Come. Sophie Anne is waiting." Siegbert directed, leading us down a long, gilded hallway. Everything was gold and ornate, with large portraits lining both walls. I felt like I was in an expensive European museum rather than someone's home. She had nothing if not extravagant taste.

We were led through a winding maze of hallways, all with their own distinct style and theme. At every corner, another pair of beefy vampires were stationed, quickly putting an end to any thought of escape I might have had. They showed no sign that they saw us, but I knew better than to think that they would hesitate before ripping my limbs from my body if I tried anything.

After touring Egypt, Van Gogh's blue period, and interestingly enough, colonial America, we stopped in front of two massive gold leaf doors. The whole feel of the place was awful gaudy if you asked me, but no one did, so I kept my opinions to myself.

Eric and I only had time to exchange a quick look before Siegbert swung open the doors into what could only have been the throne room.

After taking in the grandeur of everything we passed in the hallways up to this point, the room wasn't as large as I was expecting, but that didn't make it any less regal. I took a second to look around and imagined that this was what the ancient Greek temples had looked like in their prime. Everything was pristine and white with elegant gold trimming. Mirrors lined the walls, making the room look larger and more crowded. In the center of the back wall was a large, plush bench, which I guessed to be the throne. The tiny woman with flaming hair and a flowing white dress had to have been the Queen.

We approached in silence, our footsteps reverberating on the cold limestone floors, while the Queen appraised us, one perfect eyebrow raised.

She was really quite lovely. Petite and fair, her eyes were like emeralds and were all I could look at, despite the opulence of the room. There was a quiet, dangerous intelligence glinting within them, and it was immediately clear that she hadn't simply been handed her title; she'd earned it.

"Sookie Stackhouse," she purred. Her voice was rich and musical, reminiscent of a cello. "I've waited a long time to meet you. Welcome."

I nodded but said nothing. All desire to tell her off had died in my throat. I would have to bide my time, see exactly what it was she wanted, before I could have that satisfaction.

Her smile was eerily similar to Pam's, and I felt her gaze like pins and needles moving slowly up and down my body.

After a moment, she turned to Eric and smiled outright, her fangs reflecting in the soft light. It was a cruel and knowing grin, not warm in the least. "Sheriff, what a pleasant surprise. It's been a while. I trust you've been well these past few weeks."

"I have, your majesty." Eric said without hesitation. It was the first time I'd heard him address someone of a higher authority.

"I'm so glad you were able to make it to New Orleans tonight. I apologize for the short notice, but I was just so eager to meet Ms. Stackhouse here." She turned to look at me. "I've heard some very interesting things about you, darling."

That was the moment I knew that I wouldn't be leaving that place. Not that night. Not ever. She was looking at me like I was the prized canary and she was the hungry cat. I was hers.

I chanced a quick glance at Eric, but he showed no sign that he was aware of what the Queen was going to do.

"I do wish you'd gotten here earlier, though," she said. "Now we don't have enough time for my surprise."

The Queen lifted off the throne and strode toward us, moving so delicately she practically floated.

"No matter." She dismissed our tardiness with a flick of her tiny wrist. "You two will just have to spend the day and we will reconvene tomorrow night. Right now, I would like for Sookie to tell me all about how she defeated the demon. Come."

Her cool arm slipped around mine as she began to lead me away from Eric, but I clamped down on his hand and did my best to plant my feet.

Fortunately, Eric came to my rescue.

"I'm sorry, your majesty, but the experience is still too fresh in Sookie's mind. Speaking of it causes her great distress."

"Oh," she turned to face me, her expression actually one of concern. "Oh, of course. Forgive me. We will discuss it only when you're ready."

I smiled and nodded my head. "Thank you, majesty." The words felt stupid and awkward in my mouth, but how else are you supposed to talk to a Queen?

"If it doesn't offend you," Eric continued. "Sookie has had a long night already, and I'm sure she would like to take her rest."

The Queen shot another chilling smile in his direction. "I'm sure Ms. Stackhouse is more than capable of speaking for herself. Isn't that right, dear?"

I nodded again and looked directly into her eyes, determined for her to see that I was not afraid. "I'm afraid Eric's right, your highness. It has been a very long night and I'm pretty exhausted."

Nothing was said for several seconds while she met my gaze head on. It was like staring down a tractor trailer. All warmth and hospitality had disintegrated, leaving behind a cold mask of cruelty. Just as I was about to reach the end of my will power and avert my eyes, she spoke again, her voice flat and robotic.

"Of course. Bill, show them to their rooms."

My heart dropped like a brick right into the pit of my stomach. This time Pam's sandwich actually tried to come up as I gagged audibly. Just the thought of us being separated was enough to make me physically sick. I stepped closer to Eric, determined to stay at his side.

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," I said. "But I find that ever since my . . . ordeal, I can't sleep without Eric nearby. Would it be too much trouble if we shared a room instead?"

She looked between me and Eric. "That's out of the question."

I clasped Eric's hand with both of mine and took another step closer, refusing to make this easy for her. He stepped in front of me, his body bent in the now-familiar fighting stance. Apparently, the same thought had passed through his mind.

Before things could get much uglier, Siegbert spoke up.

"Your majesty, may I speak with you for a moment?"

The Queen glared at Eric for several seconds, but he refused to back down until she turned and allowed Siegbert to lead her outside the room beyond where anyone could hear.

"Eric—" I started as soon as the door closed behind them.

"Quiet. She has spies." He shot a pointed look at Bill, who was still hovering in the background, sulking.

Well, fine by me.

The lust returned full force as soon as the Queen had left the room, and since talking wasn't an option, I buried myself between Eric's arms, letting his smell comfort me. He wrapped himself around me, his head dipped into the crook of my neck where he placed several wet, cool kisses that weren't doing anything to calm me down or clear my head, but I didn't care. It was exactly what I needed.

After a few minutes, I allowed myself to take a breath and try to figure the situation out. I was still tied up in Eric's arms, trying to run through everything that had happened since Bill walked into Fangtasia, searching for some kind of mistake, a loophole, anything that would get us out of this mess.

By the time the Queen returned, the best I could come up with was trading her my on-call telepathy services for our freedom.

How weak.

She didn't waste any time getting to the point, standing in front of the throne with her arms crossed and her hip jutted at a rather extreme angle. "Siegbert here seems to think that separating you two would be a serious security risk, so I suppose I have no choice but to allow you to share your room. For now."

I had no idea why Siegbert would have spoken out on our behalf, but I didn't care. I could have kissed him.

Eric ignored her threat and bowed low, which I took as my cue to bob my head in her direction. I had no intentions of ever bowing to her. She wasn't my queen after all. "Your majesty is most kind."

"He also says that you two have not yet forged a bond. Carnal or blood."

"That is correct."

I had no idea where this was going, but I could tell I didn't like it.

"You must give me your word that it will stay that way. You will not share your blood and you will not mate. If I so much as suspect that you disobeyed me, I will take great pleasure in tearing both your lives down around you. Is this understood?"

"Yes." We both nodded. I was looking at the ground between my feet. Her voice hadn't been raised, nor was the tone harsh, but I still felt like my third grade teacher had pulled me up to the front of the classroom in order to scold me for not doing an assignment.

"Good. Now take your rest." She bowed her head at us. "Until tomorrow night."

She stood completely immobile as Siegbert led us from the room. Her eyes never left mine until the door closed between us.

After wandering through yet another labyrinth of eclectic hallways, we stopped about halfway down the Japanese corridor in front of one of those sliding panel doors. I couldn't help but be impressed with the authenticity.

The room itself was simple with minimal furniture. The walls were covered in intricate engravings of various scenes from Japanese feudal life. There was even some incense burning in the far corner. A simple mattress covered in a set of Egyptian cotton sheets sat in the middle of the room with a set of armoires against the far wall. It was surprisingly cozy.

"You would be wise not to try anything during the day, Ms. Stackhouse," Siegbert said. "Sophie Anne will have no qualms following through with her threat. Keep her happy, do what she says."

He left before I could respond to the cryptic warning, sliding the door shut behind him. Outside, I managed to pick out the faint, unmistakable sound of a key turning in a padlock, sealing us inside.

Eric was on me before I had the chance to feel concerned, attacking me with his lips and pulling my legs up around his hips.

"I've been wanting to do this since Shreveport," he whispered.

"What about the Queen?" I asked between moans. Despite how good this felt, I coudn't forget about her threat. What if we lost control and sealed the deal? We'd been forced to go so long without touching each other that who knew how much desire had built up between us. It wasn't like we hadn't been overwhelmed before

His eyes sparked red at the mention of the Queen, but that didn't stop him from dragging his fangs over my collarbone. "If I choose not to sleep with you, it's for the reasons I explained last night. Not because _she_ told me not to."

He kissed me again.

I had been starving for this for hours, and now that he was mine again, I was able to forget the severity of our situation. Eric was all tongue and fang, devouring my mouth with his own, chasing away all the bad memories and replacing them with good ones. I was just as ravenous for him, my hands twisted in his hair, pulling him closer.

At some point he brought us over to the bed and sat down, bringing his raging erection in direct contact with my fiery core. Thank God for Pam's selection of skirt.

Without having to think about it, my hips began to rock against his, tearing a loud groan from his throat while his cool hand slid beneath my tank top up toward my breast. My skin was so scorched, I swear his touch created steam.

Even through his jeans, I could feel his own growing heat. I pressed my hips down harder against him, and his arm came around my lower back so I could get better leverage.

The slight change in angle made all the difference in the world. Soon, I was seeing stars, even with my eyes open.

He pulled the straps of my tank top down to my waist, causing my breasts to spring free, and wasted no time before taking one of the sensitive tips in his mouth. I screamed and held his head in place while I continued slamming my hips down on his lap.

All thoughts of the Queen and Bill and New Orleans had been eviscerated. Even poor Sam had faded into the background. All I cared about was Eric and making sure that these sensations lasted forever.

When he started to meet my hips with his own, the sheer pleasure was brought to new heights, and I felt a twinge deep in my belly, hinting at the impending explosion. Oh, God, I was on fire. My entire body was a stick of dynamite, and Eric's thrusts were dangerously close to lighting the fuse.

I couldn't move any more except for the vibrations wracking my body. Every muscle spasmed and it was all I could do to hold on when I finally spilled over the edge.

Somewhere an animal cried out and then there were nothing but flashes of bright color and heat racing into every corner of my body. Each pulse was stronger than the last. By the time it was over, I was whimpering and tears stung at the corner of my eyes.

Eric quickly kissed them away.

It was full minutes before I regained control of my limbs. He never stopped cradling my body or stroking my hair.

As soon as I could move, I reached between us to release his heavy erection.

"Sookie . . ."

I ignored his warning and forced my fingers to cooperate. It was almost sunrise; we only had a few minutes left together.

Finally, I managed to remove his belt and unbutton his flight. He sprang forward, right into my hand, which instantly closed around him.

Eric's protests died on his lips and he leaned back to lie on the mattress. I crawled up next to him, resting my head on his chest and watched my hand move, fascinated by the pink droplet forming at his tip. My thumb swirled it around the head before spreading it downward.

All the motions were unconscious. It was like watching someone else work. Stroke up, twist down. Rinse. Repeat. I changed speed every couple strokes as well as the pressure of my fist.

He seemed to enjoy everything I was doing, his hand fisted deep in my hair. An immensely satisfying purr was rumbling within his chest. When that went quiet, I knew he was close.

I sat up a little and doubled my speed, focusing most of my attention on the swollen head.

At the first appearance of those pale pink spurts, I threw my mouth over his and swallowed his groan between my lips. My hand was quickly coated in his cool, sticky essence, and I couldn't help myself. I had to taste him.

Bringing my fingers to my lips, I dabbed at the milky liquid with my tongue. Eric watched, his fangs extended past his lower lip.

He tasted like how he smelled. Earthy. Masculine. Spicy. I found myself sucking the rest of him off my skin as he watched, motionless.

As soon as I was clean, he pulled me back to him, and it wasn't long before I lost all sense of who, what, where, and when. Eric was everything I knew, everything I cared about. Nothing mattered outside of what was going on in that bed.

So much for using this time to come up with a plan.

My tank top was long gone, and my skirt wasn't far behind when a warning bell went off somewhere. Something about that scrap of denim fabric. Eric's fingers fumbled with the buttons for what seemed like hours, but he couldn't get them to cooperate. I only remembered that Sam was supposed to be hiding out in there when Eric gave up and brought his hands to the waistband, about to rip the offending material off my body.

"Eric, wait!" I gasped. "Sam's in there somewhere."

He dropped his head to my stomach, kissing it gently, and I almost thought he was about to stop. _Oh, God, no. Please don't stop._

Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, his hands returned to the button and managed to get it open and slide both the skirt and my underwear down my legs, dropping them in a pile on the floor.

He quickly removed his own clothing and came between my open, waiting arms.

At last, this was what I was waiting for all night. To feel his skin covering my own. For Eric to overwhelm every one of my five senses.

We continued kissing and stroking well past dawn, only stopping when blood began to trickle from his nose.

After pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, exactly as we'd done the night before, we both fell asleep, dead to everything but our need to be together.

* * *

I had no idea what time it was when I was shaken awake.

"Sookie." Another gentle shove. "Sookie, wake up."

My eyes fought me at every step, but I finally managed to tear them open.

"Sam?"

He was standing beside the bed. Naked . . . again. I was probably going to be shocked if I ever saw him covered up after this was over.

"Yeah, it's me."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes before I realized that I was just as naked as he was. Sam, gentleman that he was, fixated on his feet until I had situated the bed sheet around my body.

"Okay," I said once I was covered.

"What the hell happened?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"We're in New Orleans. At the Queen's palace."

He rubbed his face, groaning and sat down on the far end of the bed. "Shit."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But we had no choice."

I turned to look at Eric, who was lying dead between us, remembering what it felt like to see him with that silver sword pressed against his throat.

"It's only about two in the afternoon. We still have plenty of time before they wake up," Sam said, breaking me out of my daze. He wasn't stupid. He knew better than anyone that something was very wrong between me and Eric. "You need to tell me what happened between you guys. Did you find anything out about Lempo?"

"Yeah, Eric gave me a little more information," I said then launched into a two hour explanation of everything I'd learned after I holed myself up at Fangtasia.

When I was done, the expression on his face resembled that of someone who just learned that he'd consumed rat poison.

"We are so fucked."

**So. There's the Queen. Like her? Hate her? What does she have in store for these two? Will they ever be able to control themselves? Will Sam ever get dressed? All will be revealed soon . . .**

**This may be the last update for a little while as I'm planning on finishing my SVM story "A Conversation" next, but no fear, I have no plans on abandoning this.**

**Also, I've finally joined the Twitter bandwagon. Hit me up at January_4! I just signed up today, so there isn't really anything going on right now, but I would thoroughly love to talk with other Truebies and authors, seeing as I am the only person I know who enjoys True Blood and I need an outlet. Badly. **

**I can't believe we have t wait another week before the season finale. Argh.**


	16. Chapter 16

**And I'm back. **_**A Conversation**_** is complete . . . for now. I'll probably tack on an epilogue at some point in my life. **

**This is a pretty key chapter, and I'm sure most of you are going to hate the ending. **

**In other news: I has a beta! About time I got on that, too. Many thanks to the fabulous **_**Susanj51**_** for lending her awesome skills. She's even going back through the rest of this little bugger and helping me clean things up! Any remaining errors are all my bad.**

**And since it's been more than a year (!) since I've started working on this, here's a quick recap w/ stuff you'll need to recall for this chapter:**

**Sookie and Bill went their separate ways after she found out he'd lied to her about the effects of drinking vampire blood. Soon after he disappears, she senses a "presence" in her house, which leads her to getting possessed after Eric takes her home one night. She's injured in the process and he has to give her his blood. **

**Sam and Eric have to call in a professional exorcist named Peter to take care of things, and he's killed in the process. Still they manage to finish the exorcism after discovering that the Queen was the one who summoned the demon. Eric tweaks, and everything's hunky dory. Except it's not. Sookie is having a difficult time adjusting and Sam takes her to Eric's to see if he has any info. He does; the demon forced a bond on them and now they're in love—addicted, actually. They're also extremely overprotective of each other. Cue Bill's return with orders from the Queen to see them in NOLA asap. They go, she greets, and they have no idea what to expect. **

**Now, on with the show:**

After Sam had woken me, all that managed to register through my hazy consciousness was that I was exhausted and that Eric was still dead, which left me dancing on the very tips of my nerves. Jittery didn't even begin to cover it.

To keep myself at least semi-distracted, we began going through everything that had happened the past few days and contemplated the queen's possible plans.

Because I was so wonked out, it took me a few minutes to remember Eric's warning about spies. By then, I'd already told Sam everything I'd learned in Eric's office. Whoops. Hopefully, none of that included anything they didn't already know. More importantly, I'd done most of the talking, so with any luck, maybe they'd just think of me as "crazy Sookie" and had no idea I'd managed to smuggle someone inside the estate. Then again, the way our luck was going, probably not.

After that little slip, we learned quickly to write out our conversations on the stationary I'd found in the desk that looked like it had come straight from feudal Japan. I hoped I was just being paranoid and that there really wasn't a microphone planted somewhere in the room, recording everything we said. It was daylight after all; maybe they thought it wouldn't be worth it since I'd claimed to be so tired.

Fat chance.

About an hour after I woke, a pair of servants dropped off a gourmet meal of foie gras, roasted potatoes, and steamed vegetables. They'd even brought some sorbet for dessert. Sam hung back while I thanked them both for the food and insisted on carrying the tray in myself.

As soon as the door was shut, I set the tray on the floor, and we proceeded to inhale its contents. I did my best to give Sam a larger portion; it had to have been at least a day since he'd eaten anything, and I was sure that shifting was a pretty energy-intensive process. I wondered whether he'd eaten anything while he was a bug; how would that work after shifting back to human? Would a few leaves or blades of grass be enough to keep him going? I might have asked if we didn't have more important things to focus on.

On my end, I was ravenous; I didn't care a lick that I was eating duck liver. It was surprisingly good. But then again, they could have dropped off another round of "sandwich a la Pam" and I would have devoured it with a smile on my face. Meeting the queen had sucked a lot out of me, and I could only imagine how much harder round two was going to be. As it was, I barely tasted the meal, which I'm sure would have cost more than I spent on groceries in a week. My mind was so scrambled that you could have fed me Gran's ginormous southern breakfast complete with flapjacks and brisket so tender it actually disintegrated on my tongue, and I still would have thought the dead guy in the bed tasted better.

Talk about disgraceful.

As I ate, I looked over at Eric while I shoveled the food in my mouth. It had been awhile since he had eaten anything, and he was going to be hungry when he woke up. I didn't know whether they were going to bother bringing him any True Blood before the big meeting, which only left me. Maybe he'd have to use me, despite our promise to the contrary. The idea both thrilled and scared me; there had to be a reason that the queen made us promise to keep the fluid exchanges to a minimum. Then again, if she was afraid of it, maybe that was all the reason we needed to go ahead and do it anyway.

While I was working through a few more scenarios involving Eric and me exchanging blood and sex, Sam scribbled on the creamy paper, distracting me from my, uh . . . scheming.

"What are you thinking about?"

I wrote quickly, not caring at all about penmanship. "Why doesn't she want us to exchange blood?"

"Probably because she's scared you'll form a bond."

A what? I slapped down a question mark and waited several minutes as Sam wrote out an explanation, cleaning all the extra sauce off my half of the dish with my finger as I did so. When that was gone, my stomach rumbled for more, but unless I wanted to take a bite out of the stark white china, that couldn't be helped.

Finally Sam pushed the paper at me with a large chunk of chicken scratch and incomplete sentences in the middle of the page.

"Not sure how accurate this is. You take his blood three times. It forms a connection. Permanent. He can track and feel you. Only bond to one vamp at a time. Only way to break them is if someone dies. They don't happen often. Queen probably want to bond with you."

That last sentence was the missing piece of the puzzle, and I wondered why Eric hadn't seen it. I'd been wondering a lot about his judgment these past few days, actually. There was no reason for us show up the night we were summoned, with pretty much no plan in place. He didn't seem to sense any of the danger that had been beating at my skull with a claw hammer since Bill showed up again. The only thing that seemed to be on his mind was getting in my pants, which, don't get me wrong, was a wonderful thing, but he needed to at least try and control himself. If the queen really did mean to bond with me, I didn't see any other way out of it than to bond with Eric first. I'd already had his blood twice—that incident in Dallas and after Lempo had attacked me in my kitchen—so it probably wouldn't take much to finalize things. I sighed then poked Eric's foot with my finger as if it would be enough to wake him up.

Time was slipping away, and all I could do was wait around for sleeping beauty.

Around five o'clock, Sam shifted back into his preferred bug form, which turned out to be a cricket, and I tore up the papers of our conversation then flushed the pieces down the toilet. Not a small part of me hoped it would eff up all the plumbing on the queen's estate. Served her right.

I spent a few more minutes in the bathroom taking care of business and splashing some cool water on my face. I lingered a little bit in the mirror, surprised by how much my appearance had changed in just a few days. Before I'd gone to see Eric, my skin was sallow and my hair dull. Now that we'd spent every waking minute—and then some—together, I was looking better than I had in months. My smile was nothing short of radiant and my hair was thick and shiny. Even my boobs were perkier than usual.

Go figure.

By the time I came out of the bathroom, Eric was starting to stir, which meant that the sun was almost gone. I didn't think twice before stripping out of the tank top and skirt I'd donned and slipping between the sheets, sliding up and down his body, intoxicated by the feel of his skin sliding against my own.

Even unconscious, Eric's body was pulled toward mine, his arms quickly wrapping around me and pulling me even tighter against him. For the first time all day, my mind stopped racing and the tightness in my muscles began to unravel. My cheeks to his chest—it would have been all too easy to stay like that for years.

When I felt his fingers combing through my hair some time later, I knew he was awake and pressed a kiss right next to his nipple to mark the occasion. Then I returned to my perch against him, my own fingers exploring the fine hairs sprinkled across his chest and trailing from his navel.

"You should bite me," I said.

"No."

"Why not? You have to be hungry."

His cheek came to rest on the top of my head. "Because you need your blood more than I do. I'll find some synthetic later."

I groaned and adjusted myself against him knowing it was probably the perverse side effect of Lempo's curse that wouldn't let him risk hurting me when he fed. That was a pretty big liability on both our ends. Back in Shreveport, when I felt that his life had been in even the slightest danger, I was ready to do whatever necessary to protect him. If I thought that throwing Bill down on Eric's desk and shoving my tongue down his throat would save him, then you bet your bottom dollar I wouldn't have said boo. If the queen knew anything about that side effect, then you could have just gone ahead and stuck a fork in us. We'd be done.

Before I could bring up the bond, Eric took it upon himself to roll on top of me and sample the skin along my neck and collarbone, his leg pinning my hips to the bed. I wanted to shove him off and get down to the more important business, but the heat that was stirring in my belly put that thought to bed real fast.

He groaned when he got to my lips. "Mm, lover, what have you been eating today? You taste delicious."

"I don't know." I really didn't. He'd kissed the thought right out of my head.

The soft sound of his fangs clicking into place was followed by the two blazing trails they left from my ear down my throat. I could feel the hunger radiating off of him, but he wouldn't bite down and endanger losing control. It wasn't until I saw the delicate points in his mouth that I remembered what Sam had told me earlier.

"Sam thinks she's going to try to force me into one of those vampire bond things."

"Does he now?" He moved all his weight to his side, propping himself up with one arm and using the other to raise armies of goosebumps all over my skin. His tone was absent, distracted.

I shivered under his touch but didn't lose sight of my goal. "Yes. And I think he's right."

His lips joined ranks with his fingers as they grazed over my chest, down my breasts, and across my stomach.

"So what would do you propose we do?" he murmured against my skin. A second later his tongue joined the party, dipping into my naval.

"I think we should bond now, before she gets here," I managed to gasp.

From the look on his face, you'd think I just told him my blood tasted like chocolate. I'd even managed to shock him enough to stop the phenomenal assault on my body. "You would be willing to be tied to me even after the curse is lifted?"

"If I had to choose between you and her, well . . . there isn't a choice." I shrugged best I could, given my current position. "Besides, we don't really have much time. I only have to drink your blood one more time before it's done, right?"

"Yes," he whispered before covering my lips with his and kissing me right up to the brink of suffocation.

Then, without further ado or discussion, he pulled himself up enough so that he was sitting against the headboard, and lifted his free wrist to his mouth. An unpleasant, crunching sound reached my ears as he did so. I winced when I saw the red streaks begin to drip down his arm but hid my distaste as he handed the bloody wrist over. The smell was strangely sweet and appetizing, causing my mouth to open on pure instinct, when the door on the far wall slid open without any warning.

Siegbert lumbered in, looking as massive and awkward as always, dressed in what looked to be an extremely comfortable black robe with the same sword from last night tied around his waste. From the thin, pressed line that was his mouth, it was clear that he was well aware of what we'd been doing.

"Separate. Now." The tone of his voice left no room for negotiation.

Eric didn't argue as he slid out of the bed and collected my clothes for me, the wound on his wrist already sealed shut. I fought to ignore the magnet in my chest begging me to cling to his hand and pull him back to the bed. Instead, I chose to yank the tank top over my head and slide the skirt up my legs, very carefully so as not to inadvertently crush Sam. By the time I was dressed, Eric had pulled on a pair of black jeans and the same t-shirt from last night.

"Sophie-Anne is waiting," Siegbert said after we were ready. "Behave. For all our sakes."

My only option was to get out of the bed and immediately latch onto Eric's hand with both of mine before following Siegbert through a series of unfamiliar hallways and back to the queen's throne room. I had no reason to hope that he would not say anything to her about what we'd been about to do, but that didn't stop me from praying to every god I could think of. The queen's threat from the previous night bounced around in my head, and another jolt of panic jammed through my spine. I really needed to learn to slow down and think things through before acting on every impulse that entered my head.

Eric had promised that nothing would happen and that he wouldn't let us be separated, but that feeling of inevitability refused to leave me. Call my psychic, but I knew without question that I wasn't going to like the outcome of tonight's little meeting. Not one bit.

All too soon, Eric and I found ourselves outside those opulent doors from the previous night, a bowling ball of dread lodged firmly inside my rib cage. Before Siegbert could push the doors open, Eric leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together. If I lose you, I'll lose my mind."

Siegbert gave us a look that said "good luck with that, buddy" and ushered us inside. With the stark white floors and walls lined with mirrors, the room was still as intimidating as I'd remembered. Luckily, Bill was nowhere to be seen. I was dealing with enough drama at the moment without having him sulking in the corner.

I held my breath and waited for Siegbert to play tattle-tale but all he did was announce us to the queen—nothing about how he'd found us seconds away from cementing a vampire blood bond despite our promise otherwise. Slowly, my muscles relaxed enough for me to walk without looking like an old robot.

Once it was clear that Siegbert wasn't going to say anything—at least for the moment—my attention was redirected to the queen, who had just risen off the same plush throne from last night. She was wearing a canary yellow dress that reminded me of sunshine and her lips were the same shade of red as her hair, offsetting her porcelain skin. The satin fabric of her dress grazed the stone floor with every silent step.

"How wonderful to see you again, Sookie. I trust you slept well." She clasped my hand and kissed both my cheeks, her lips as soft as butterfly wings.

I had yet to relinquish my hold on Eric. "Yes, your majesty. Thank you."

After I was properly greeted, she turned to Eric and offered a nod, which he returned a second later. "Sheriff."

"Majesty."

The queen's shrewd eyes trailed down our bodies, lingering a little longer on our hands, which were still locked together. "Shall we sit?" she asked, leading us past her throne to a gaudy fountain, complete with naked creatures spewing water from various orifices that I somehow managed to miss the night before.

"Eric, I'm glad I have you here since we didn't get a chance to discuss it last night," she began after everyone was settled on the ledge of the ugly hunk of limestone. I was pretty much in his lap, one of his arms tight around my waist while I clutched his other hand.

All it took was one more sentence before I was completely lost in the conversation. "I haven't been able to check in with you after your last visit. Have you had any difficulty moving the product we discussed?"

"No, majesty. Everything is still on schedule."

The confusion must have registered on my face because the queen took it upon herself to explain—sort of.

"Oh, how rude of me," her hand fluttered at her throat. "Eric has been moving a very special product for me to help build some revenue in the kingdom. Things have been pretty tight here since Katrina. I'm sure you understand."

Huh, so she was in debt. That was a piece of information I could file away to play with later on. I played along with her etiquette charade and smiled as politely as I could. "Of course."

She reached over, patted my hand, and then turned back to Eric. "You should be getting another shipment in the next day or two. I trust you won't have any trouble with distribution?"

"I would expect not."

"Wonderful." Her smile was so wide I could almost see her sparkling molars. It did nothing to give me even the slightest warm fuzzies. I pressed closer to Eric, wishing that he wasn't wearing a shirt so I could feel his cool flesh on mine.

"Okay, now that the boring stuff is out of the way, let's get down to the nitty gritty—such a beautiful phrase, don't you think?" She didn't give us time to respond before continuing. "I trust you both know why I've sent for you, yes?"

"We have our suspicions." It had been an unspoken agreement that Eric would do all the talking unless I was asked a direct question. Given all the shit my mouth had gotten me into in the past, I figured it was the safest option.

"Which are . . ." She pulled one perfectly arched brow up on her smooth forehead.

His response was diplomatic and level as always. "We suspect it has to do with Sookie's ordeal with Lempo."

"Correct!" She clapped her hands once and kicked her leg out before crossing it over her knee. "Now I think it's time we discuss your little bond, am I right?"

Eric and I shared a quick glance, and I had to content myself with just a quick squeeze of the hand, when I really wanted to wrap myself around him like a shawl, touching as much of his skin as I could reach.

"If that's what your majesty wishes, then of course."

Sophie-Anne simply observed for a moment, not missing anything that passed between us.

"Yes, I do," she said. "Now, tell me everything about your new _connection_."

Choosing his words carefully, Eric explained how "fond" we had become of each other after all the time we spent together in Dallas and dealing with Lempo, making sure to glaze over how protective we'd become and the exact degree of our mutual "fondness." Most of his description focused on the details of the possession, how I'd behaved, how he'd saved me—very little about afterward. He spoke with no emotion whatsoever, to the point where he might as well have been reading from the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_.

"I see." Her concern went about as deep as her makeup. "I cannot imagine going through such an ordeal but it appears you've come through it quite well."

"For the most part, majesty."

The pity in her expression could have stopped a train, and I had to bite my tongue before it could lash out. After all, she was the bitch who did it to me. "Poor dear."

Not trusting myself to keep my words in check, I shrugged and avoided eye contact.

"I'm not sure how much of a comfort this will be to you, Sookie, but I do have some good news."

Both Eric and I stiffened against each other.

"I understand that you suffered a casualty during the exorcism, yes?"

Eric gave her a brisk nod. "Yes. The shaman."

"You were aware that he was one of the most foremost shamans in this hemisphere?"

"I was."

"Then you know that his death is no small matter."

The dread in my chest grew heavier each time the queen opened her mouth.

"Yes, majesty."

She placed both hands behind her on the ledge and leaned back slightly, uncrossing and then re-crossing her legs. "Well, the Council contacted me a few days after his death, demanding reparations. Were you aware of this? Apparently it costs a great deal to train a replacement shaman. Anyways, even though I am in debt myself, and even though you failed to inform me of what happened, I paid off the Council in your name."

I didn't quite see what the big deal was until after Eric responded.

". . . I'm in your majesty's debt." For the first time that night, he slipped and allowed emotion into his voice; he wasn't exactly leaping for joy, either.

"Oh, think nothing of it." She said it like she'd done nothing more than pick up the tab at lunch, but I'd been around vampires long enough to know that they never did anything for someone else without ulterior motives. I held my breath and waited for the other shoe to fall, which didn't take long. Her playful grin shifted to one of wicked malevolence, a poker player with the winning hand who knew you'd been bluffing all along. "Besides, it's the least I could do since I was the one who summoned Lempo . . . surprise!"

And there it was; she'd finally revealed her role in the whole thing.

I was glad that her little surprise was something we'd already known, but what the hell was she playing at trying to drop that kind of bomb on us? I'd only spent a little bit of time with the woman, and it was clear that she was every bit the snake I'd first thought.

" . . . Majesty?" Eric feigned confusion and I followed suit, even managing to muster up a few shocked tears.

"It was nothing personal," she said. "After I found out about the stunt you pulled in Dallas with the lovely Ms. Stackhouse here, I needed some insurance."

"What are you talking about?" I spoke up, unable to keep quiet any longer. Her comment about Dallas hit a little too close to home. Exactly how much did she know about me?

"Oh, William told me all about how Eric had tricked you into drinking his blood and how he was planning on taking you for himself. I couldn't have that, now could I?"

_Bill_? Even with Eric anchored at my side, the room started to spin. "Why was Bill talking to you about me?" The question came out as less than a whisper.

Eric's protective instinct kicked in, and he pulled my one ear against his chest, covering the other with his large palm. "Don't listen."

But it wasn't enough to block out the queen's words.

"Because, dear, that was his assignment. You see, I've been interested in you for a _very_ long time."

The tears fell for real then and they didn't stop. Sophie-Anne actually had the nerve to reach out and try to brush some of the hair out of my face, but Eric moved me out of her reach, turning his back to her slightly.

"I swear I didn't know," he whispered then tightened his arms around me. Given our current situation, we couldn't really do much more than that. The reality of everything that had happened in the past few months crashed down around me. This pain was way beyond that when I found out how Bill had lied to me about taking his blood. The fact that he'd faded somewhat from my life since then did nothing to detract from the pain of his true betrayal. I'd given him so much only to have it all thrown back in my face. Even blinking hurt.

The shock was enough to extinguish the raging lust between us. I had no desire to stroke the solid muscles in his chest or to taste the sweetness in his mouth but that didn't mean I needed him any less. His touch was my only comfort and his smell my only reality. Without him nearby, I would have fallen apart. Fast and hard, no doubt about it.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," the queen said after a few minutes. No doubt she'd been watching us like the cat next to the aquarium.

"Fuck you!" I spat. Eric's hand stopped stroking my back, freezing in place. "Why are you doing this to me?"

She seemed undeterred by my outburst, her smile screaming "I know something you don't know."

"For the same reasons Eric tricked you in Dallas, I'm sure. You really have no idea how special you are, do you?"

"I'm not special," I said, strengthened by Eric's arms around me. "I'm just a waitress."

Her yellow dress shimmered as she put both feet on the floor and leaned forward. "I think we all know you're much more than that."

The last of my self-control was shredded beneath her words. I was just about to tell her to stick it where the sun did not shine, when Eric cut me off.

"What do you want with us?"

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet? I'm surprised. I thought you much more perceptive than that."

No she wasn't. She was just enjoying messing with us too much.

"I've wanted Ms. Stackhouse since I first found out about her. Then, when I heard of your interest, Sheriff, the opportunity was too good to pass up." She dipped her hand into the fountain, watching the water's reflection sparkle on her skin. "It's no secret that you're older and stronger than me, and not by a small margin either. All I had was your word that you wouldn't attempt a coup, which I'm sure you'd agree isn't that binding. Even now, I'm sure you could kill me and every single one of my guards on your own—"

"My word is everything," Eric interrupted. The queen's eyes narrowed in annoyance but she allowed him to continue. "I've told you many times. I am completely loyal to you and have no interest in being king."

"And I don't doubt that you're telling me the truth. But vampire politics are so volatile these days. All it would take is some other monarch to make you a better offer than mine, and I'd be at your mercy. Consider Ms. Stackhouse my little insurance policy to ensure that you keep your promises, Sheriff."

Oh, God. I could see where this was going all too well. My eyelids slammed together and I clung to Eric with everything I had inside me.

"I don't understand."

How could he not see it? Her plan was so obvious. She was going to use me, use me to hurt him, use him to control me. We were her pawns until she said otherwise.

"Don't play dumb, Eric. It doesn't become you."

I pressed against him tighter, a scared child clinging to her father on the first day of kindergarten.

"I know there is much more to your connection with Sookie. Do you think I'm stupid? I know exactly how much you two burn for each other. How insane being separated from her makes you. That's why I did it."

Eric was shaking but managed to keep himself restrained.

"I know something else about your bond, too. Would you care to see it?" she turned her head to the side and spoke before either of us could respond. "Siegbert?"

From out of nowhere, the giant vampire showed up, sword in hand, with the pointy end pointed directly at my throat. "Release Ms. Stackhouse."

Eric growled and his grip on me tightened considerably. I closed my eyes and prayed that he was strong enough to fight that overprotective urge. But when I felt the end of the sword nick my shoulder followed by the trickle of blood dripping down my arm, I knew it was all over. The cut didn't hurt but that didn't keep me from crying out.

"Release her, Northman." His accent was thick with the threat. "I'll cut her again."

A second later, Eric's arms were no longer wrapped around me, and he was standing aside, glaring darkly at both Siegbert and the queen. As long as that sword was pointed in my direction, Eric couldn't do anything more.

"Eric . . ." I whimpered. I was fine. They weren't going to hurt me. The queen had just blathered on and on about how valuable I was, for Christ's sake. But that didn't matter. I'd felt it too, back in Fangtasia when Bill had attacked Eric. I was ready to lay down my life if it meant sparing him a second of pain. The need to protect overwhelmed everything rational.

The queen lifted off the fountain, graceful as ever, and practically skipped over to where Eric was standing.

"You will return to Area 5 tonight. Alone. If I detect even the slightest decrease in your revenue this quarter, I will not hesitate to kill Ms. Stackhouse. And you can be sure that it will be very slow and extremely painful." She giggled. Fucking giggled. "Her life is in your hands, Sheriff. Don't let her down."

The panic that welled up within me was so great that it manifested physically. I got sick, leaning over that god-forsaken fountain and releasing all the food I'd eaten earlier that day and then some. When I turned around, Eric looked as sick as I felt.

I tried to get off the fountain and go to him but with one smooth twitch of his arm, Siegbert had moved the point of his sword from my throat to Eric's, forcing my feet to grow roots where I stood. I crumpled to the floor.

Chills raced up and down my body, which had started to shake; I was completely powerless. Both of us were.

Eric and I simply looked at each other, our minds racing for some way to get out of this mess. I could see that he'd overlooked this scenario in his scheming—or lack thereof. Maybe he hadn't realized how big of a threat this bond was. Maybe he'd underestimated the queen's intelligence. Whatever the reason, it made no difference.

When I'd finally pulled enough air in to speak, I didn't recognize my voice. "You can't send him away. I'll be completely useless if you do."

"You better hope that's not the case, sweetie, or I'll have no choice but to take your punishment out on Eric."

Her words were too heavy to carry, and my forehead pressed to the cool floor, all hope draining out of me. "Please don't do this . . ."

"Enough of this unpleasantness." She brushed me off like I was nothing more than a mosquito and then stepped toward Eric, making sure to stay out of arm's reach. Gesturing toward the door, she said, "Sheriff, thank you for delivering Ms. Stackhouse. Safe journey back to your area and don't forget what I said."

He'd been dismissed but had yet to move. "Sookie . . ."

"Enough!" The queen bellowed, one arm full out pointing to the door this time. It ended in a long, sharp nail. "Leave. Now."

To drive her point home, Siegbert held the sword over my arm, as if he were going to slice it open. I prayed that he wasn't just pretending; the sweet, painful distraction would have been almost welcome.

Eric managed to hold his ground for a few more seconds before he whispered an apology, one I almost missed, and backed out of the room. Neither of us so much as blinked, let alone broke the last of our connections, until the doors to the throne room had slammed shut between us.

I was alone.

As soon as Eric was gone, Siegbert sheathed the sword and helped me to my feet. The queen was standing a few feet away, studying her nails like the last fifteen minutes hadn't happened.

My feet felt like they each had fifty-pound weights attached at the ankles; the three or four steps back to the ledge of the fountain took an enormous amount of energy and I practically collapsed against it. I was still shaking, my stomach still churning. The longer Eric was gone, the more my vision swam together. The walls melded together with the ceiling, and the reflections in the mirrors taunted me. I was lost inside my head without a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way out.

I don't know how long I sat there, sprawled on the fountain, before the dainty hand presented itself. There was no reason not to take it; the worst had already been done. It wasn't like I had a rainbow of options to choose from. I slid my fingers into the queen's, shivering from their cold temperature.

She pulled me gently to my feet, her arm coming around my waist when she saw that I was having trouble standing on my own. The next time she spoke, her voice was soft, almost motherly.

"Come. I'll take you to your room."

I was too disoriented to argue and allowed her to lead me down yet another series of hallways.

"I'm sorry I had to be so hard on you in there," she said as we walked. "It was necessary, I assure you. I'd never have gotten the upper hand on Eric if I wasn't."

What did she expect me to do with that information? It was like apologizing after taking a baseball bat to someone's windshield for no reason.

The room she showed me was designed eerily like Gran's house. The bed was the same model and the bedding was a similar floral pattern. It even had that "lived in" feel that I loved so much about my home. When I saw a few of Gran's photos in frames placed strategically around the room, I almost got sick again. This wasn't home; it never could be. Bill had been disgustingly thorough in his reports back to the queen about my life.

I made it a few more steps into the room before my knees gave out, and I fell onto an ottoman. I didn't move. I could have fallen on the floor or onto a cloud, and it wouldn't have made a difference. Without Eric, I would be sleeping on a bed of nails. The queen lingered in the doorway, watching me.

"You have free reign of the palace, of course," she said. "We have stables and greenhouses and world-class chefs—everything you need to make yourself at home."

My response was flat and robotic. "No wonder you're broke."

I waited for some kind of punishment, maybe yet another threat against Eric, but the queen only ignored my bitterness.

"You've had a rough night." Understatement of the century. "We'll start your orientation tomorrow."

Fine. Whatever. It made no difference to me.

I waited to hear the door click shut so I could sleep, hoping that maybe Eric would make an appearance in my dreams; instead, I felt a small pressure on my shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I had every intention of letting you stay in your home until that Viking got involved. I'll help you forget him. You can be just as happy here."

Then she released me and walked back to the door. "Sleep well, Sookie."

**Forecast is in, folks, and we have a hurricane of angst coming our way : )**

**Good thing I don't plan on letting it stay too long. Just a chapter or two . . .**


	17. Chapter 17

**Can't thank you guys enough for all the feedback and reviews and favoriting/alerting going on! **

**Really curious to see what you think of this chapter . . . It's unbetaed so all mistakes belong to this kid right here.**

I was done waiting around, absolutely finished hoping that someone "smarter," or "older," or "stronger" would step up to the plate and take care of me.

I'd been doing that since this whole mess started and all it got me was locked up in a city hours away from home, with a withdrawal so strong it left me breathless and nothing more to sustain me other than the occasional half-hearted escape attempt that involved Sam risking his life to save mine. This damsel-in-distress act sure was a far cry from the self-sufficient woman Gran had raised.

Each day I was separated from Eric, that suffocating pressure grew deeper. I didn't think I would be able to last much longer. If it wasn't the physical symptoms, something else would get me.

Bill seemed to be lurking around every corner, waiting for me. The look in his eyes was neither pleasant nor recognizable whenever I had to speak with him. I could tell he wanted something from me, wanted me, but luckily I was never alone with him for long. Siegbert seemed to recognize the potential threat and always appeared to remove either Bill or myself from the situation.

The Queen, on the other hand, she was . . . not what I expected. Under different circumstances, we might have been, not friends, but at least on friendly terms. She had an agenda, yes, and held me to certain expectations, but she gave me plenty of free time and her demands weren't really all that unreasonable. In the last few weeks, the longest I'd been asked to work was six hours one night early on when I interviewed all of her human employees. All I found was an accountant who had been busy shuffling some extra salary into his bank account, but he hadn't taken more than five thousand dollars—nowhere near the amount the queen needed to make up for all the money she'd been losing, but she'd been thrilled with my discovery nonetheless. In these past few weeks, it had become obvious that her money problems went a lot deeper than she'd first let on. She was starting to get desperate, accusing people at random.

But not me. I was her new favorite toy to dress up and show off. I could do no wrong in her eyes. The first times I tried to escape, my only punishment was spending two days locked in my room. I must have attempted to escape at least a dozen times by now, and I had yet to suffer her wrath. I think she was more amused by my attempts than concerned. What was the point when I had yet to make it off the front yard?

Whenever we spent time together, she was nothing short of cordial and even friendly. Fine gifts like elegant dresses and baskets of what I assumed to be soaps and bathing supplies were bestowed on me almost every day, despite the current financial situation. Honestly, I couldn't help feeling a little bad about her money troubles. I found myself hoping to find a human that was siphoning off money from her dwindling reserves every time I was called on to read someone. If she'd lost her money because of poor management or a bad investment, I might not have wasted the energy it took to pity her, but I'd learned through Siegbert that she donated most of her savings toward rebuilding the city after Katrina barreled through. Gran raised me better than to hate on someone for doing a good deed.

Even with all the sensory overload going on, Eric was always at the forefront of my mind. Sometimes, I thought I saw him standing in the far corner of the room, darting down a hallway. I'd hear his voice ghost against my ear, but when I turned my head, I was alone and he was nowhere to be found. We were hundreds of miles apart, and each vision was just further proof of my sanity crumbling around me.

There was no question that I had to get to Eric or lose everything in the madness. Each minute we were apart, I could feel myself sliding backward. Every hallucination was more real, more solid than the last. It wouldn't be long before I lost myself entirely and those visions became my reality.

Physically, I was no better. Eric was my drug. I was addicted to him completely, and he'd been ripped away from me like a scab off a fresh wound. My time was filled with fits of constant chills and nausea followed by aching sweats. Everything down to my molars hurt. My blood was on fire, shrieking for Eric's cool touch. I didn't sleep. I only passed out from exhaustion.

The only relief I could find was temporary, lasting no more than a few hours each time I swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. It took me forever to make the connection, but when I did, I struggled for days trying to understand why. After a few gulps of the magic elixir, my body relaxed just enough for me to keep some food down and for the trembling to subside. The results were so drastic that I had no choice but to swallow my pride and speak up.

Siegbert's accent was difficult to decipher, but I managed to piece together that the relief was probably a lasting effect of the exorcism. The water I'd drunk after Peter died had been enchanted and was strong enough to release Lempo's hold over me. Apparently, the enchantment lingered in my body, and each time I drank water, I was released from the bond for a few precious moments.

Each time I drank, I was reminded yet again of what Peter had sacrificed to help me and wished that I could taste what it felt like to have just a piece of his courage.

I tried to hold off as long as possible between my pseudo-methadone treatments because I knew that Eric had to get by without that kind of luxury. Having even a moment of comfort when I knew the kind of suffering he had to endure was almost as unbearable as the withdrawal.

The only solution was for me to get back to him. Once we were together, I knew we'd be unstoppable. Then, nothing, not even the queen's armies, could break us apart.

My hopes soared every time Sam showed up with the latest escape plan, and each time, those hopes were stampeded over by an army of Sophie-Anne's security giants. They dragged me back to my room like it was nothing and Sam had to take off to avoid being killed. We had yet to get close enough to get a glimpse of the road.

_Team Spam's_ brilliant escape plans were really just variations of the same strategy. Every day at two o'clock, I would wander through the garden wearing a certain perfume that Sam had picked out the first day I was locked up. He would be hanging out there in bug form and needed the scent to recognize me since bugs couldn't really see anything. That way, I could carry him to my room where he'd shift back to human and scribble out the latest plan, which usually consisted of him shifting yet again into something large and in charge and causing a distraction while I slipped out an abandoned exit. The entire process must have been grueling for Sam, but he never complained. Too bad he always showed up with awful plans, not at all subtle or effective. Nothing more than brute force and desperation.

But they were all we had going for us. The day after I was locked up, Sam shifted into a fly and asked me to carry him outside so he could get back to Shreveport and work with Pam. You'd think a vampire who was almost two hundred years old and a shifter with access to millions of different shapes would have been able to put together something a little more substantial.

No, their plans pretty much always ended with Sam barely scraping by with his life and me locked in my room. The worst part was that he refused to tell me anything about Eric. I had no idea how he was coping with all this and cared more about what was going on with him than these stupid escape plots. The only thing Sam would give me was stupid promises that everything would be okay once they got me out of New Orleans, which could only mean that Eric was not in good shape. Why else would Sam avoid the topic so studiously?

Pam had to have been behind Sam showing up so often, pathetic plan in tow. There was no way she would allow Eric to suffer for long and Sam was her only pair of eyes on my side of the fence. And it was a rather limited view . . .

After countless failed attempts, I reached my limit. My poor optimism was beaten to a pulp every time Sam showed up. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands, making sure that it didn't need a thousand pound rhino charging down tiny hallways for it to work. All I needed was a little bit of creativity, which I had, and a whole heap of good luck, which I was praying for under every other breath.

It was early yet, a few hours after sunrise. I could probably manage to slip out when the vampire guards went to rest and the other large supes—shifters of some sort—took over, but I wasn't looking for that kind of opening. I had something else in mind.

Yesterday, I'd managed to swipe one of the maid's uniforms from their changing room on a whim during the daily wander I usually took to keep from being alone inside my head. Between the fits of nausea and chills, a plan started to put itself together.

From what I could tell these past few weeks, the queen had all sorts of people working at her home—the least of which were humans, who covered all the cooking and cleaning tasks throughout the estate. Every eight hours the shifts would end and a fresh set of employees would take over. The point was that the queen had people working for her twenty-four hours a day, and I was going to take advantage of it. The next shift ended around noon, which left me with a solid seven-hour window before the sun went down and any vampire could track me.

My plan hinged on a lot of factors, the most important of which being Eric's ability and willingness to find me. Once I made it outside, all I could do was hope that he'd sense where I was when he rose and come for me. I had no plan beyond getting us together again.

The grandfather clock in the other room chimed ten times, letting me know that I should probably have started getting ready, which was easier said than done. Even with this massive incentive dangling right in front of me, I was exhausted, beyond lethargic and barely able to twitch. I tried to will my body off the bed, begging for a healthy dose of adrenaline to help me make it through the rest of the day.

I sat there, waiting for the inspiration to move, finally dragging myself into the bathroom with nothing but sheer will power.

The queen had spared no expense in my apartment, which was complete with kitchen and full bath. In the master bath, there was even a Jacuzzi set beneath a large bay window that overlooked the gardens. The view would have been spectacular if I had the capacity to enjoy it.

I ran the water in the massive tub, dumping in every oil, flower petal, bubble bath, and lotion lining the vanity before slipping in myself. For my plan to work, I had to reek. My natural scent was a dead giveaway to any supe that I encountered, so I had to make sure it was buried beneath as much nasty, perfumed scent that I had at my disposal. Which, thanks to the queen's constant doting, was a whole heck of a lot.

The water cooled after a half hour, so I drained the tub and filled it again, dumping in more perfumes as I did so. Before the water got too high, I lowered my head beneath the faucet and rubbed in some honeysuckle and rose shampoo. The combined aromas were sickening, but I forced myself to hold it together. That sugary, floral scent was the smell that would help get me back to Eric.

By the time the water grew cool yet again, my head rang from all the competing smells, but I wasn't done yet. In addition to the lavish, country apartment, the queen also provided me with numerous expensive cosmetic products—not least of which was a bottle of expensive _Chanel_ lotion. Admittedly, it was a rather pleasant, light scent, but not when mixed with everything remotely stinky in a fifty-foot radius. Of course, that didn't stop me from slathering it on every inch of my body, just in case the bath oils weren't enough camouflage.

Once the lotion had soaked in, it was time for makeup, which the queen also had in healthy supply. I was never one for more than some blush, gloss, and mascara, so I caked it on now, not caring that it left me looking like a two-cent hooker. When all was said and done, my eyes were buried under heavy silver eye shadow and dark liner with excessively pink cheeks and lips. I looked like a brand new person, but hopefully not so unique as to draw extra attention. The goal was for me to disappear, or at least be overlooked, not to stand out.

With a little more than ten minutes before the next human shift officially ended, I slipped on the soft blue cotton uniform. It was a little baggy in the sleeves and hips, but otherwise, it fit fine. Once I slipped on a pair of comfortable flats, I turned to appraise myself in the full-length mirror. The woman in the reflection reminded me more of the exhausted single mothers who denied their middle age with low-cut tank tops and fruity cocktails than the twenty-five year old I'd grown accustomed to seeing.

It was more than a little off-putting.

To cover up my disguise for the time being, I let my damp hair hang down my back and pulled on one of the many large, fluffy robes the queen had placed in my closet. With the belt tied securely around my waist, I took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway, making my way over to the service entrance.

These past few weeks, it was not at all uncommon for me to wander the entire estate half-dressed and a vacant stare, so I put my head down and meandered toward the employee area. None of the guards looked—or sniffed—twice.

My little walk was uneventful until I was about halfway to my destination. I turned down one of the abstract hallways and almost slammed into someone's chest. A very hard, very wide, very tall chest.

I looked up and Eric was smiling down at me.

Confusion hit harder than anything else. "What are you dong here? I'm in the middle of trying o escape."

He didn't answer, only shook his head and put his finger to his lips, then turned to lead me down the hallway. I followed close behind him obeying each one of his hand signals. A quick wave to stick close to him, an open palm and outstretched arm to freeze.

He led me through the maze toward the employee zone without incident, and when we got close, he stopped moving and turned to face me, fingering the tie on my bathrobe. I immediately pulled it open and let it fall to the floor, then tied my damp hair into a loose bun. Eric nodded as if he approved of my disguise and peaked around the corner at the employee hallway.

A quick jerk of the arm let me know that it was clear, and I zipped past him, my stride strong, belonging to someone with a purpose. I strolled past the last set of guards into the stark back hallway, my eyes never straying from the exit until a sudden movement at my right distracted me.

Eric.

He was in what must have been the employee break room. There were vending machines and mostly empty coat hooks, even a wall of cubbies, some of which contained purses. I didn't think twice before swiping a purse from one of the cubbies and going through the wallet. I pocketed the cash, making sure to pull out some change for the vending machines, then swiped one of the coats off the hook.

Two other girls came into the room while I was buying water, and I held my breath, waiting for one of them to accuse me of stealing their coat or their purse, but they barely noticed me. The girls laughed and gossiped loudly as they picked up their stuff, and I tried to look inconspicuous as I slipped out of the room behind them with three water bottles pinned under my arm.

Sitting in front of the exit was the final guard, the last person for me to fool. I picked my head up and kept pace with the girls ahead of me, but they paid me no notice as we all made our way down the hallway, each step bringing me closer to freedom. I turned back once to see where Eric had gone but couldn't spot him. When I turned back, he was standing by the door, his eyes locked on mine.

I couldn't blink and had no recollection of telling my feet to continue walking, but somehow I made it to that door, my eyes on Eric the entire time.

He shifted his gaze from me over to the guard and I followed suit. "Have a good day," I said, adding a little extra accent for good measure, then followed the two other girls outside and into freedom. I had to walk right by Eric to get through the door, and when I was close enough, he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Get to Shreveport. I will come for you as soon as I can."

I didn't realize he'd been a hallucination until I saw the sunlight from outside hit him in the middle of the chest. He didn't burn. He simply nodded at me and then disappeared.

I could only imagine the therapy I was going to need once this was all over.

The long walk down the path to the road was uneventful. I kept my head down in case any security cameras were watching and I didn't stop until I was standing on the other side of the tall metal fence surrounding the queen's property. There, the girls who'd inadvertently helped me escape left without so much as a smile.

I'd done it. Me. Alone and without any super powers—unless of course you counted hallucinating. For the first time in weeks, I felt something that wasn't angst-ridden. I was proud of myself, and I knew Gran would have been, too. The hardest part was behind me. Now all I had to do was get myself a bus ticket north and avoid being kidnapped by any vampires in the process, which couldn't be that hard seeing as it was still the early side of a bright, sunny day.

I set off in a random direction, not really caring too much where I was headed. The queen's estate was located right in the middle of the French quarter—the tourist district, to be exact. There were signs on every street corner pointing to various attractions and restaurants exactly like in an amusement park. I had no trouble finding a bus station about a mile or so away.

The wad of cash I'd stolen added up to a little more than eighty-five dollars, which left me with some extra money after bus fare. As soon as the ticket was in my hand, I marched over to the terminal and took a seat. My bus didn't leave for another three hours, but I had no intention of getting off that bench until it was time to board. Anything less would have been asking for trouble.

No, I was just going to sit there and try to keep myself calm. That alone would require almost all of my energy and concentration. Now that the adrenaline rush of my big break had retreated, the withdrawal returned with a vengeance.

It had to have been ninety degrees that day with almost one hundred percent humidity, and I was shivering hard enough for my teeth to rattle. My hands shook so hard as I unscrewed one of my water bottles that I dropped the cap onto the floor, where it proceeded to roll away. I didn't have time to see where it went because I was busy downing the entire forty-eight-ounce bottle in less than a minute. Thankfully, my symptoms subsided a few seconds later, and I was able to relax enough for the paranoia to take hold.

Every person who passed me, or so much as spared a glance in my direction, I immediately took to be one of Sophie-Anne's spies, waiting for the signal to haul me back to prison. The entire ease with which I got out unnerved me; I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall.

For the next hour or so, when I wasn't chugging water or locking eyes with everyone who walked by me, my attention was honed in on the clock hanging on the opposite wall, counting off the slow drip of time.

At some point, other people began to file into my terminal, apparently waiting for the same bus. Each one was more suspicious than the last. It felt like they were all positioned strategically around me, the middle-aged man sitting two seats away, the woman gossiping on her cell phone across from me, even the mother and daughter sitting one row over, they were all waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I'd used up all my water with more than a half hour to spare, but I was too nervous to get more.

Finally, about twenty minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, the passengers were allowed to board. I selected a window seat close to the front, immediately twisting to look out the window, clutching my stolen purse to my chest like it was a life vest.

I avoided eye contact with everyone who stepped onto the bus after me, staring either out the window or at my feet, nowhere else. I just had to hold on for a few short hours and then I could see Eric. That knowledge was the only thing keeping me from skinning myself with my own fingernails.

_Six hours . . . six hours . . . six hours, and you can see him._

Once the passengers were onboard and after waiting for what felt like an eternity, the bus backed out of the terminal and we were on our way.

The bus was a little more than half full, and almost everyone was able to sit by themselves. Lucky for me. There probably would have been casualties if I'd been forced to sit next to someone the entire trip.

As it was, I spent the whole ride pretending to be asleep, though with the way my eyes were clenched shut, it would have been obvious to anyone who bothered to look that I was faking. Every rest stop, every bump, I was convinced was going to be the point when Sophie-Anne was going to have me hauled back to New Orleans and locked inside a far less comfortable room under constant surveillance.

It seemed like the hours ticked away faster than the miles, but once we made it out of the city traffic, things seemed to pick up. Or at least I thought they did. Judging by how low the sun was hanging in the sky with little more than two hours left before we reached Shreveport, I guessed we would arrive a little after dark. Hopefully, Eric would have realized what I was up to by then; otherwise, I was going to have to call a cab to take me to Fangtasia. Thank God I'd had the wherewithal to not spend all my money.

By the time we pulled into the Shreveport bus station, it was full dark and I was in agony. The physical pain grew worse the closer I got to Eric. It was like every cell in my body was screaming for me to forget the bus and just find him before it was too late. I was too close to fail now.

My instincts hadn't led me wrong so far and I couldn't think of a reason not to trust them now, so I took the remaining money from my purse and shoved it into my pocket, waiting for my chance. The instant those doors opened, I shot out of my seat, leaving the rest of my stuff behind.

My heart was thumping in my throat as I made my way into the bus terminal. Everything appeared to be normal. People bustling to and fro, jumping on and off Greyhounds in every direction. But something was off. The queen had to be on to me by now. Probably had been since the second she rose. I could almost feel her frustration beating at me and had no doubt that she would come for me, _was_ coming for me.

But it was done.

I was hours away. No matter what she had up her sleeve, she could never reach me before I got to Eric. I won.

I had almost reached the entrance to the terminal when I was taken from behind. My arms were pinned against my back, and I watched as the bus station rushed away from me in the opposite direction. No one even looked up when I disappeared, and they certainly didn't seem to notice me whizzing by them. The pain in my arms and shoulders kept me from struggling too much, but my blood screamed for Eric, needing him to come for me.

The last thing I remembered before passing out was inhaling a familiar odor—one that I'd never thought of as sour before and a voice I knew all too well whispering in my ear. "Did you really think she'd let you get away so easily?"

* * *

The next time I opened my eyes, I was back in my room in New Orleans and I was not alone. The queen was sitting next to me on the bed, her chic ivory suit looking extremely out of place in the country room.

Her eyebrow did all the talking as it crawled up her forehead as she simply handed me a cool bottle of water. "Drink this."

I drank the water she offered without argument and the ever-present nausea and shakiness faded a moment later. To my surprise, I was relatively okay with the fact that I'd been so close to freedom only to be yanked back to square one at the last second. Probably because I was really no worse off than I'd been when I woke up this morning. It was only a matter of time before another opportunity showed itself, and I was going to be ready for it. There was no question that Eric and I would eventually find our way back to each other.

"I have to say that I'm impressed with your tenacity," she said once the bottle was empty. "You really aren't afraid to go for what you want, are you?"

I had nothing to say so I just shrugged.

"Just so we're clear, you're welcome to try to escape as often as you like."

That made me sit up a little. "What?"

"I find your little spells of creativity delightful!" she exclaimed. "Just when I think I'd seen it all, you manage to slip through all of my security. You even made it out of my area! It's all very entertaining, really."

". . . I'm glad you're amused."

"Oh, I am," she smiled. "Just remember, no matter how far you get, I'm always going to come for you."

I slumped back on the wall of pillows behind me, the wind falling right out of my sails.

"You know if it wasn't me, it would be someone else," she continued. "Now that the supes know about you, even if you made it all the way back to Bon Temps and I decided to let you go, it would only be a matter of time before someone else showed up and took you for themselves. Life for you, my dear, is never going to be as it was."

She played with her fingernails as she talked, pausing only to look about the room. "And I doubt you'll find others who are more . . . accommodating than me."

"I didn't ask for any of this."

"I know you didn't, but trust me. You could have fallen into much worse hands." She leaned forward and picked my hand up between both of hers. "I'm not your enemy, Sookie. I want you to be happy here. What would it take to do that?"

"You know what I want," I whispered.

She shook her head, the dramatic red waves adding an extra flair to the movement. "Except him. You can't see him again. The bond is too strong now. What else?"

I turned away, choosing to find the wall more interesting than the obnoxious, dead redhead.

"What if I allowed your family and friends to come visit? Even that shifter of yours who likes to cause me so much trouble? I'm sure it would be much easier that way for you to plan your little escapes," she asked after a few seconds of awkward silence. The offer was enticing enough to overshadow her arrogance. "They can come stay as often and for as long as you'd like."

I turned over again to face her, and as far as I could tell, her expression was genuine. "You'd allow that?"

"Of course!" She laughed and patted my hand. "You're not a prisoner here, Sookie. You're simply a . . . member of my retinue."

"Yeah, who's not allowed to leave."

"Only because I can't afford to lose you. Think of yourself as a valuable employee. You can have practically anything you want. All you have to do is ask."

I rolled my eyes. "Well doesn't that make me feel a whole lot better."

She laughed again, light and melodic, just like everything else about her. "I do love your spirit."

Like I'd never heard that before.

"So how'd you find me?" I asked, resigned to the situation for the moment. I was genuinely curious. As far as I knew, supes still had to adhere to the general laws of physics, and it would have been impossible for anyone to have travelled from New Orleans up to Shreveport so quickly.

"William was able to track you," she said. "I know how you feel about him, but he was the only one here who'd given you their blood before the whole Lempo ordeal. I'd have had you take some of mine or Siegberts, but we all know what could happen then, and we don't want to take any chances, now do we?"

I blinked a couple times, wondering if I'd heard her right. "Say that again?"

"You had William's blood, so naturally—"

"—no, the other part."

"Oh, hmm, I thought you knew . . . Yes, well, it's been said that bonds such as those between you and Eric are very tricky. There have been instances before with Lempo's bond where one of the cursed drank from someone else and was poisoned. I heard it was an awful death, too . . ."

"So, you're saying that I don't have to drink from some strange vampire?"

"Correct."

Well that was a bit of good news. One of the many knots in my chest unraveled and disappeared. "What about Eric? He can drink from other humans can't he?"

"Oh, you silly girl," the queen laughed. "Of course he can't! Well, I guess he could if he were looking for a particularly excruciating way to meet the true death . . ."

I could have downed an entire lake's worth of water and it wouldn't have been enough to cure me of how sick I felt. Here I was living in luxury while Eric was starving to death. Sure I felt sick now and again, but he had nothing. No way to relieve the pain.

"Sophie—majesty, you can't do this to him! _Please_, let me see him. He needs blood to live! How do you expect him to run his area when he's _starving_ to death? Just drain my blood into one of those bags and let him have that—"

"_Enough_." Gone was the warm twinkle in her eye and soft smile, replaced by two long fangs and a glare that stopped me cold. "Eric can take care of himself. Now do you want to know how William came to find you or not?"

When I didn't press further, her fangs retracted and her face relaxed. Apparently that particular discussion had reached its end. But I was far from done. Oh, yes, I was going to get my answers one way or another. It might not be tonight, but it would happen.

Before continuing, Sophie-Anne reached down next to the bed and twisted the cap off yet another bottle of water before handing it to me, before continuing as if nothing had happened. "He's spent a great deal of time travelling through the demon realm," she explained. "That was how he was able to keep tabs on you and avoid all of Eric's silly trackers _and_ how he was able to get you back here so quickly."

Of all the things I'd been expecting, an allusion to another _realm_ was the absolute last thing on my list. Was she serious? The whole concept of other realities obliterated pretty much everything I thought I knew about the world and how it worked. I couldn't stop myself from wanting to know more. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Surely you know of the other realms, dimensions, realities, universes . . . whatever you'd like to call them?"

My only response was to stare, mouth wide open.

"You mean you didn't know?"

I shook my head a little, not capable of much more than that. After everything that happened to me, I didn't know why I was so shocked to learn there were alternate universes, but I was. So sue me.

"Humans," she shrugged then continued. "Well, all those exist, with various . . . _entities_ living in each one. And with a little bit of politicking, William has managed to negotiate travel rights for himself through the demon realm."

"Okay . . ." So much for the idea that all supes adhere to the laws of physics.

"Time and distance in that dimension is much different than here. An hour over there might be no more than a moment here. At least that's what William has told me. I've never had any desire to cross over to those other realms. I think it's quite nice in this world, don't you?"

My mind couldn't process fast enough. "So . . .you're telling me that you had Bill watching me from the demon realm since . . . I don't even know how long—"

"—since a few nights after you threw him out of your house," she provided.

"Right. Since then?"

"Yes."

"All so he could avoid dealing with Eric?"

"Well, Eric would have killed him," she said as if that excused everything.

"_I'm_ going to kill him!" As far as I was concerned, he was the reason I'd been ripped out of my home and forced into this ridiculous situation, and now finding out that he's been spying on me through a fucking wormhole the entire time Eric had been searching for him pushed me far over the edge. We needed to have words. Other than lurking at me in the hallways, we hadn't really spoken since that night I'd rescinded his invitation, but that was going to change. Tonight.

If I couldn't help Eric, then I was absolutely going to take care of Bill.

I was as serious as a heart attack, but the queen simply chuckled like I'd just declared that I was going to learn how to fly. "Oh, Sookie. How you amuse me."

No longer in the mood to deal with any more of Sophie-Annie's bull shit, I sat up, swung my legs off the bed, and marched toward the door, a bottle of water clenched tightly in my hand.

"Where are you going?" she called after me, still laughing.

"I need to talk to Bill."

**So . . . what do you think? Everyone still hate Sophie-Anne? **

**I was telling one reviewer in my reply (sorry can't remember exactly who it was!) that I basically see her and Eric as playing a constant political chess match, and she finally got the one-up on him. To her, it really isn't anything personal, she's just "doing her job." But I'm totes interested to see what ya'll have to say.**

**And I apologize for this being so long in coming. I've got lots of drama going on at home and I just went back to school, so time is a little limited.**

**That said, I'm already halfway done w/ Ch. 18 : ) **

**And hint, hint: Bill is **_**such**_** a douchebag. I thoroughly dislike him.**

**Also, If you're _really _looking for an Eric/Sookie fix, you might want to check out my O/S Miscommunication. Eric basically seduces Sookie while she's on the phone with Bill. Which totally needs to happen IMO.**


	18. Chapter 18

**You mean everyone **_**still**_** hates Sophie-Anne? I'm shocked . . . ; ) But I have to say, according to vampire standards, she's not that bad. Arrogant and conceited yes, but overall a good "pet" owner...**

**A lot of people are really worried about Eric, and I think this chapter will answer a lot of your questions. Whoever asked why they didn't go to the media, good call! I tried to cover that base a little here, hopefully to everyone's satisfaction. **

**Also, when I began this story, I did not take into consideration that eventually the first-person narration was going to become unreliable. Sookie is just short of a nervous breakdown with all the crazy going on in her life, so I would take what she (and Eric) says with a grain of salt. Their center of balance is completely skewed and you're basically seeing everything through their rose-colored glasses. So what she's going on and on about (eg, Eric suffering/starving/worst-case scenario) may not be reality. Just saying…**

**Epic thanks to my beta Susanj51 for her awesome beta skills and insane turn-around time. We're talking like 2 hours, folks. She rocks.**

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I flung the door open hard enough for it to bounce off the wall and knock one of the many framed pictures to the floor. I was too upset to acknowledge the mess and stomped down the hallway in search of Bill, not caring at all that I was acting worse than a teenager in a snit.

With everything going on, I figured I was allowed to be a little miffed, damn it.

I'd been manipulated into a forced, uncontrollable lust; the subject of which being a thousand-year old vampire sheriff with an ego that had yet to meet its match. All for some kind of political chess match. Now, Eric was gone and I was caught in some bizarro world with a vampire monarchy and demon realms. Even Gran would have agreed that I had a right to be pissed off.

And all that anger was going right for Bill. The first man I loved, the first man I trusted, besides Jason.

Blood aside, I had no idea what could have attracted me to him. Our time together couldn't have been more than a simple charade on his part. How many times did he laugh at or judge me behind my back after I'd opened myself up? I couldn't trust any of the empathy or compassion he'd showered on me during our time together. No, the longer this situation dragged on, the more certain I became that the spiteful ass I'd been forced to deal with lately made up the larger part of his disposition.

Pretty much everyone avoided eye contact as I stomped around the estate looking for Bill. It didn't take very long. He was sitting in the main library a few hallways down from mine, surrounded by an overstuffed, black leather chair next to one of the many fireplaces housed throughout the building. Even in downtime, he sulked.

The frown lines only deepened when he saw me approach, but I wasn't going to let myself be intimidated.

I walked right up to him, leaving only a foot or two between us, my arms crossed pushing my breasts up and out in full pissed-off female mode. "You son of a bitch."

He looked at me for a moment and then smiled. It was tight, pinched, and looked more like he was constipated than anything else. I could tell he was trying to be genuine, but that stupid grin had all the sincerity of a box of nails.

"Sookie. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know damn well why I'm here."

"No, I'm afraid I don't." His expression was a careful mask of control as he regarded me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I pressed, determined not to back down. My foot might have stomped the ground once, too, but my attention was focused elsewhere.

"I don't understand. What are you—"

"Would you just cut the shit already!" I was not about to put up with his ridiculous innocent bystander act. "Are you or are you not responsible for dragging me back here tonight? And through a _demon realm_ no less?"

His mask slipped for a moment, and I saw a smidge of rage peak through. "What are you talking about?"

"You know? That place or . . . whatever, where you've been watching me for _weeks_ like a coward?"

I watched as his jaw clenched and released several times before he answered. "You know that the queen ordered—"

"And you obeyed without a second thought, didn't you?" I interrupted.

"She is my queen," he replied, his shoulders lifting and dropping in a slight shrug.

Whatever subtext was in that comment, it pissed me off. Bitch Sookie was officially coming out to play, and boy was she going to play hard. "And I _used_ to be your girlfriend! Tell me, was any of that real or are you just that much of a 'faithful servant' to your queen?"

His eyes left mine to stare at the toes of his old boots for a few seconds before answering. "You know I cared about you. I still do," he said, his voice quiet. "I love you, Sookie."

The words were all right and his voice had that timbre that went right through me, but it wasn't real. The words were no more than echoes of my own dying feelings.

I whipped off the cap of my water bottle and took a swig before daring to speak again. "Look me in the eye and say that."

He pulled himself off the chair, standing to his full height, and stepped toward me. Warning bells went off left and right inside my head, but I held my ground.

The weight of his hands on either one of my arms bore down on me much harder than I remembered while his gaze morphed into one of those smolders that used to make me weak in the knees. "I love you, Sookie."

There it was. Just like before. He was saying all the right things, but it was off. It was all off. His eyes were completely cold and dead. An abyss, empty of anything warm or familiar.

This time I did take a step back. "Well, you have a fine way of showing it."

"You know everything I've done was to protect you," he argued. Though his squint grew more pinched when I moved away, he made no attempt to close the distance. "Even now, I swear it."

I exploded, emotions, anger, bursting out through my pores. I could only imagine the kind of crazy I looked. "How can you stand there and lie to me like that? You are the _one_ reason my whole life fell apart. If I'd never met you, I'd still be working at Merlotte's and Gran would still be alive!"

Bill maintained his expression throughout my outburst, cool and disconnected as always, calculating his next move, searching for the right words to say to make me react how he wanted.

So, of course, I felt the need to add, "I didn't need any protection until you came along."

"Yes. And you were miserable until you met me. I brought you the excitement and adventure you'd only dreamt of. I gave your life meaning."

"No. You're the reason my Gran is dead." My voice was ice cold. Her loss hit me all over again like a wrecking ball right through the chest. My Gran—the woman who raised me, loved me unconditionally—she was dead. For what? For Bill's stupid mission to "procure my services." "The most important person in the world to me, and you might as well have killed her yourself."

Bill's response was quick and deadly, like a cobra striking the field mouse. "It's funny how you never blamed me until now. I didn't think you'd allow Eric to sway you so easily."

I shook my head. "Don't you bring him up in this."

I was _so_ not going to go there with Bill right now. If nothing else, this argument was proving to be an excellent distraction from the mess inside my head. Bringing Eric up was only going to bring that disaster back to the surface. Right now, thoughts of him could do nothing but confuse me, drag me right back down. I downed the rest of my water just in case.

But Bill wasn't going to drop it. "Why? Are you upset because it's true?"

He walked past me, brushing against my shoulder as he did so. The contact was slow and deliberate and brought out two competing waves of nausea and sheer disgust. _Great_.

He wandered over to the far side of the room and shut the door quietly. My heart stopped as the latch clicked into place. Only then did I consider that confronting Bill alone was a mistake. The situation just took a giant leap into dangerous territory.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd leave the door open," I said, my voice colored red with fear.

"I warned you time and again that Eric was not to be trusted," he said, ignoring me. "Yet he was the one you turned to."

"I did go to you, remember? You tried to get me to leave my home and stay with you."

Bill only glowered and circled back toward me. My senses were as sharp as they could have been and tuned into him and his slithering movements.

"If you'd only said yes, this whole mess could have been avoided. I would have brought you here and Lempo wouldn't have been able to hurt you." A shiver dribbled down my spine, and I took yet another step back. "But you had to go to him instead."

"He was there for me when you weren't."

As soon as my words reached his ears, his brows came together and the words that tumbled out of him had a razor's edge. "Don't be naïve. You think he'd still be there for you if it weren't for Lempo's curse? He has no choice."

I shrugged, trying to hide the fact that I was truly afraid for the first time since I'd entered the room. "Neither do I."

Bill seemed to soften at that, his face returning to something recognizable. "I understand," he said, coming toward me.

Watching him switch back and forth so quickly across the emotional spectrum tapped right into my fear. I'd been so intimate with him; he knew everything about me, and it was becoming clearer every second that I knew nothing about him other than what he'd deliberately shown me.

"I'm sorry that you got caught in the middle of everything."

"I'm dealing with it."

Each second I was under his gaze was one second longer than I wanted. The air was as thick as smoke, thick enough to choke me. And Bill's constant prowling and analyzing were putting me even more on edge. Every hair up and down my arms vibrated with the tension pulling at my body.

"If Eric hadn't interfered in Dallas—"

The tension thrumming all through my muscles had reached its breaking point, and Eric's name was enough to push it over the edge.

"Enough with blaming Eric, already! _You're_ the reason I'm in this mess, Bill! You constantly harp on him for how he lied and used me, but I _always_ knew where I stood with him. There was no question about what he wanted from me—"

"So why do you defend him?" he interrupted, his body stiff with restraint.

"Because what you did to me was so much worse. How many times did you try and squeeze some more of your blood into me? Lie to me? Manipulate me? All while pretending that you loved me and doing everything in your power to make me fall in love with you.

"How many times must I tell you that I _do_ love you!"

I didn't hesitate, didn't blink, didn't think before the words came out and was startled by how much I believed them. "Whatever you think you feel, I promise you it's not love. It's just selfish and cruel."

In that instant, all pretense of kindness or understanding drained from his body. His shoulders were stiff and hard, and his arms barely moved as he came at me. Intuition begged me to stay away from him, but there was nowhere I could go. I'd only taken a few steps backward before I'd backed myself into the silken wood of the mantle over the fireplace.

Wouldn't you know it? My stupid mouth had gotten me into trouble yet again.

Bill's fingers were like cold worms as they wound around my throat. "I will teach you to respect me. Once Lempo's curse is removed, you will be mine again."

"No," I shook my head as much as his stone fist would allow, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'm never going back to you."

He leaned in even closer, a rotten smell leaking from his pores. "You don't exactly have a choice in the matter, sweetheart. Do you think Eric is going to want you once he's free? You're nothing more than a burden to him. He can have any girl he looks at. Why do you think he'd bother to help you?"

Bill didn't give me time to respond because his mouth was on mine, his lips pinning mine flat against my teeth while his tongue squirmed its way inside. I tried to pull back, but I was trapped. Between his clammy hand still wrapped around my throat and the edge of the mantle rubbing against the back of my head, I was pinned and had no choice but to endure him.

Of course, I twisted and fought and bit, but that only seemed to encourage him. He pressed harder into me. At the juncture of his thighs was something hard and pointy, jabbing into my hip like one half of a pair of chopsticks. All those weeks together, I knew exactly what that was and doubled my efforts to get away.

The kiss was revolting. Slobbery and painful. His fangs scratched my lips and gums—intentionally, I'm sure—to the point where blood dribbled from the corners of my mouth.

This was nothing like that time weeks ago when Sam had woken me from a nightmare, which led us to make out in the bed because I'd mistaken him for Eric. No, definitely not this time. There was no hope of pretending that the tongue swelling in my throat belonged to Eric.

I felt filthy and used. He ignored my muffled protests and actually seemed to enjoy my fists pounding into his chest. Wherever his skin touched mine, I wanted to scrub with bleach and a Brillo pad. I could almost feel the slimy residue from the direct contact.

That's what Bill was, after all. Pure slime. I could see that clearly now.

"You'll never get away from me," he said, his lips remaining firmly planted against my face. "I have powerful allies. Much stronger than your precious sheriff. I have the power to remove the curse. You could be free again. Free to be with me."

In case I missed his point, his hands began to drift around my body, not bothering with gentility or softness. He was rough, squeezing and pinching whatever flesh was in his grasp.

"Let me go,' I said against his lips, shoving weakly, but he only grabbed my wrists and pinned them up against the mantle, then kissed me harder.

"I will never let you go. You're intoxicating. Everything I do is so we can be together again. You are my destiny."

I never wished harder for the ability to throw up on command than I did in that moment. Bill was crazy. That was obvious. Neither reasoning nor arguing was going to get through that fat skull of his. The best strategy at this point would be for me to get away and stay there, but that was easier said than done.

His hands eventually returned to becoming reacquainted with my body, exploring beneath the maid uniform I was still wearing. They crawled around my skin like massive cockroaches, their little legs digging into my chest and back and abdomen as they moved. Whether it was because someone out there had decided to grant my wish or simply because my withdrawal symptoms were on their way back, the feel of his hands on me managed to trigger my up-chuck reflex, and let me tell you, vampire or not, no one likes the bitter taste of someone else's vomit in their mouth.

Bill pulled back to wipe his face, cursing, and I ducked away, heading directly for the exit.

Before I could make it halfway across the room, I was yanked back into his chest. I squirmed and threw everything from elbows to cheap shots to the groin, screaming with every bit of air in my lungs until the pain of Bill's fists clamped around my arms grew strong enough to shut me up.

"Oh, no you don't. I will not make the same mistake twice," he said. "You will not get away from me again."

Tears of pain rolled down my face, but the grip on my arms didn't relax a smidge. If he kept it up, I wouldn't have been surprised if the bones snapped clean in two.

"You're hurting me," I said, my teeth clenched.

He then contorted my body so that my ear was pressed against his mouth, handling me roughly, more like a doll than an actual person. "Consider it the first of many lessons, Sookie. You have so much to learn—"

"Well, well, well. Would someone like to explain what is going on in here?"

My eyes had been clenched shut, my mind grasping at _any _option that could get me out of this spot and only came up empty, so the arrival of the queen couldn't have been more welcome—at least, on my end. I opened my eyes and saw her standing in the doorway with Siegbert close behind.

As she entered the room, Bill immediately released my arms and took a step back. All I could do was gasp and try to catch my breath. Pain surged all the way to my fingertips as blood flow returned to my limbs.

"Majesty, I was just—"

"I think it's very clear what you were doing," she interrupted. Her tone was granite, that of an angry regent, but then softened when she addressed me. "Sookie, are you alright?"

I nodded quickly, my arms wrapped around my middle and my eyes warily latched onto Bill.

"Majesty, if you please—"

But apparently Sophie-Anne had no intention of allowing him the chance to speak. "I thought I told you to keep your distance from Ms. Stackhouse."

"Yes, but she sought me out, Majesty!"

"Oh, so naturally, that gives you the right to assault her." She crossed her arms, and actually tapped her foot while she waited for Bill to construct his response.

"Highness, I was provoked—"

"Oh, just be quiet, you sniveling little weasel. I think we've all had enough of your games. You allow a _human _of all things get a rise out of you—a vampire—then try to slough the blame off onto her. It's pathetic."

"Majesty, if I may," Bill's voice was thin, restrained. "She is nothing if not persistent for a human—"

"But she's still a human. You are more than seven times her age, have been through however many wars and loss, yet she shows more maturity time and again."

Bill—wisely—kept his mouth shut this time, assuming a more submissive position, with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed. Meanwhile, I tried not to be insulted by the queen's insinuations and focused my straining attention on the rest of their conversation.

"Ms. Stackhouse is under my protection. You are not to speak with her again. Don't even look at her. I don't care if she walks right up and punches you in the face. You will simply leave the room. Do I make myself clear?"

Bill cleared his throat. "Yes, your Highness."

"Good. Now Siegbert, please be so kind as to take William down to the cellar and make sure that he's really learned his lesson."

I said nothing as Siegbert practically dragged Bill out of the room. He went quietly but not before getting a good glare in. A chill raced through my body and I had to look away, my heart racing out of control.

When I finally looked up again, the queen was gone and I was left alone. Exhausted, I collapsed in the same chair Bill had been sitting in when I stormed into the room, trying to ignore the legion of nausea seizing my digestive tract. My face fell forward into my hands as I attempted to figure out my next move, but the only thing that seemed to make sense at this point was to bide my time. I'd rocked the boat a lot in the last day; I didn't want to push my luck. Maybe Eric would come for me before anything else happened.

Since this whole mess started, I couldn't remember ever wishing harder for him. Not his touch, not his voice, just the solid comfort of knowing he was nearby. I tried not to dwell on Bill's harsh words, but they managed to strike a chord.

Maybe the reason I was still stuck in New Orleans was because he somehow managed to get free of the bond. Maybe Bill was right and he didn't want me anymore.

It took a lot of effort, but I managed to shove the efforts aside—temporarily, at least. Now that they had made an appearance, they would probably show up more and more often. But I wasn't going to let myself get caught up. I sighed and closed my eyes, pretending that I was perched on Eric's knee instead of sprawled in an old chair. It wasn't the same. Not even close.

* * *

**Eric POV**

For the past few weeks, every time I rose, I immediately reached for Sookie. Tonight was no different.

As always, it took me a moment to realize that she wasn't there. The mattress was cool and firm; she hadn't been there for weeks. I could still detect traces of her scent, though, which was why I refused to sleep anywhere but Fangtasia in the sparse cell where we'd spent our only night together.

Her clothes from that night were strewn throughout the day chamber, further remnants of her presence. I made sure always to have a piece of her nearby. Simply holding the soft cotton of her t-shirt calmed me enough to focus on more important details. It was difficult, of course. My attention span was erratic, jumping from subject to subject with no predictable pattern. Explosions of panic had also started to make their presence known. A single stray thought of Sookie being anything but joyful in New Orleans brought them on as suddenly as a bolt of lightning.

But I was still making progress. Albeit, it was frustrating and slow, but it was progress nonetheless. After all, I had the benefit of age. And strength. And motivation.

Despite the dire appearance of our circumstances, we still had some options. They might not have been completely viable, but they did exist, and I was not above exploiting every last avenue of hope.

While I was busy piecing together a plan to bring Sookie back, the most important thing was to ensure that Sophie-Anne thought me weak, desperate. Pathetic, even.

Just as I'd made the fatal mistake of underestimating her, her arrogance would result in her own undoing. I would make sure of it.

She'd poked the sleeping giant and had been completely ignorant of the consequences. I knew she expected some kind of retaliation on my part, and I knew how entertaining she would find my supposed weakness, both of which I planned to use to my advantage.

The shifter had made several fake attempts to "rescue" Sookie, per my request. All of which were poorly constructed and doomed to failure, nothing more than a show to lure the queen into a false sense of security. Though, I did regret not letting Sookie in on the plan. I wished it were possible, but she would have been safer knowing nothing of what we were up to. If the queen so much as suspected that she was being deceived, Sookie would have been locked down even tighter. Getting to her would have been impossible.

I had failed her twice already. I would not do so again.

Sookie was strong. She would get through it fine. She might even manage her own escape before I was finally able to move ahead with my own plan.

I hadn't been surprised to wake that night last week to feel her nearby. Sookie was nothing if not resourceful. What did concern me was how quickly she'd disappeared from Shreveport. No sooner had I gone to collect her did her presence vanish. Extinguished. Only to reappear a few moments later hundreds of miles away. To have her so close, just to slip through my fingers, I felt the loss like a stake through the heart.

Oh, yes, Sophie-Anne would pay. Dearly.

It was clear that there was something else going on beneath all of her other bull shit, and I had every intention of figuring out just what that was.

But first was Sookie. After weeks of struggling with my new . . . handicap, I'd managed to come up with a plan to get her out. It was far from perfect, and it would probably end up with me owing quite a few favors, but if it brought Sookie back, I didn't care.

It wasn't until I'd had her with me for those few short hours, felt the invincibility and power that came with her presence, and then lost it that I realized how much I needed her.

I _would_ have her.

Sookie's shirt was draped over my shoulder as I stepped into my office a few minutes after rising and sat down at my desk. It couldn't have been more than a second or two before Pam strolled into the room, a voluptuous blonde human in tow.

"I brought you a snack."

"No." I didn't bother looking up from the stack of papers on my desk. Most of them held the accounting for my area for the past month, proof that I was still the queen's obedient subject—proof that I would need later on, so long as my plan unfolded as it was intended.

"You have to eat, Eric."

"Then bring me a True Blood."

"But I've glamoured her to be feisty and everything, she whined. "Just like you like."

"I said no, Pam."

She crossed her arms and pouted further, her hip jutting out at a borderline alarming angle. "You can't keep this up forever. I know you haven't fed on anything except synthetic shit since before that god-damned exorcism."

It was true. The thought of swallowing anything less than the perfect blend of fire and softness that rain in Sookie's veins turned my stomach. I had yet to taste her for fear of losing control and harming her, but I knew she would be perfection. I couldn't bring myself to indulge in anything—or anyone—else, so I settled for True Blood until I had Sookie back and we came to some kind of feeding agreement.

When it was clear that I was done speaking on the subject, Pam sent the girl from the room and redirected her attention. "The shifter is getting restless. I think he's planning to take this to the media."

I flipped the folder closed on the desk and leaned forward, my elbows planted on the desk. "I've already told him that was not an option."

"Yes, well, you also told him that you had another plan, and all you've done was send him back and forth to New Orleans to cover your own ass. He can't keep that up for much longer. I'm sure Sookie would appreciate it if we stopped leading her on like that."

At the mention of Sookie's name, the wave of panic swept over me, and I had to focus all my attention on pushing it back. These fits were becoming more frequent, and I imagined they would become a permanent fixture if we weren't able to reconnect soon. I clutched at her t-shirt, my entire body rigid. My lungs sucked in the last traces of her scent from the fabric, and gradually, the dread receded.

Pam waited for the spell to pass before speaking again, her tone softer than before. "It's happening more often now, isn't it?"

I didn't answer her, instead returning Sookie's shirt to its perch on my shoulder.

"Maybe the shifter's right. Maybe the media is our best bet—"

"No." I interrupted, leveling a glare in her direction so she would realize how serious I was. "The last thing we need is idiotic reporters running around getting in the way. This has to stay quiet. If it gets out that I'm weakened, any other vampire could take the area."

"Well, Eric, you don't have many other options at this point—"

"I'm handling it."

"It doesn't look like it," she shot back. "You refuse to take care of yourself and you're only getting weaker. We have to do something. Fast."

"You don't think I know that?" I snapped. "I told you I'm handling it. Now get out on the floor and do your job."

Pam knew better than to argue with me and turned to leave, but not before bestowing one last huff of displeasure.

When I was alone again, I pulled out my cell phone and set it on the desk, staring at it. Other than going to the media at this point, my only other option was to negotiate a trade with the queen. The problem was that I had nothing that she desired, or rather, she'd already taken from me the one thing she wanted.

But I had information about her. Information she would not want to get out. Like her money troubles, for instance. I also knew of someone who was much older than either Sophie-Anne or me—someone with a great deal of money and power.

I'd gone through all the proper channels, filed all the petitions for an audience with the King of Mississippi, and I had yet to hear anything. Either he was extremely busy or wasn't interested; I had a feeling it was the latter.

But all hope was not lost. There was still one route I hadn't tried—a last resort, of sorts. I only hesitated because he would expect something in return. Something I wasn't sure I could give.

I continued to stare at the phone on my desk, trying not to think of everything that depended on the impending conversation. If this didn't work out, I either had to declare war on the queen, a war I did not have the capacity to win, or I had to go to the media.

Both would mean my imminent downfall.

The cell phone continued to sit on my desk, completely unassuming. Funny how everything came down to this one microchip. My hand shook slightly as I took it in my hand and dialed. Before pressing the _Send _button, I took a deep, unnecessary breath that did nothing to calm me and prayed that Odin would grant me some good fortune.

He answered on the third ring, and all my energy subconsciously directed itself to sounding aloof, arrogant . . . aroused.

"Talbot, darling," I purred, drenching my voice in sex. "It's been a long time."

* * *

**Sorry. No Bill demise this chapter. But at least he got barfed on. I promise he's going to get his. Hopefully soon.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and profuse apologies for my failure to reply. You guys are all kinds of epic win, and I appreciate reading all your thoughts.**

**One last thing: This should be the last "angst" chapter. Next up is the big prison-break : ) Told you I wouldn't keep them apart for too long (update fails withheld, of course).**

**Have a great holiday and a happy new year. See you on the flip side!**

**~YoungBoho**


	19. Chapter 19

***peaks out* Remember me? **

**Pretty sure this isn't the rescue most of you were expecting, but it gets the job done.**

From the outside, the only sign that something was wrong was the slight tremor in my hands and an odd smile on my lips. Years of constantly being ambushed by people's thoughts had trained me well. I'd managed to serve patrons with a smile while they dumped their secrets into my head—unwanted images of hidden desires and unspeakable thoughts. But no matter what had been thrown my way, I'd always managed to do my job.

It was the same thing here, except now the job was to stand there and use my curse like it was an asset while buried chest deep in imaginary broken glass and lava. Simple. My job was to make the Queen look good, let her parade me like a dancing monkey for all her vampire friends to envy.

The job was easy enough, but I had to tread carefully. Sophie-Anne was volatile, dangerous. One day she would be my closest friend, and the next I might as well be her lunch. I'd been away for so long that my mind had withered down to the barest, most primal instincts. Survival. And Eric. Pride was relegated to the back seat . . . if it were even in the car at all.

There were no other options, not if I wanted to see Eric again. So I just bid my tie and danced with the best of them, waiting for another chance to slip away.

Though, who knew if Eric wanted to see me. It had been a little more than a week since I'd last seen Bill, but his words had done their job, planting seeds of doubt that grew and had begun to choke out the little hope I had left. I hadn't heard anything from anyone outside New Orleans since their last pathetic attempt to free me. For all I knew, Eric had found a way to free himself of this stupid curse and moved on to the next crises, forgetting all about me.

Whenever those thoughts popped up, I did my best to stamp them out, but they were becoming more and more common and it was difficult to keep up. Thank God I was stubborn.

So there I stood, waiting to be noticed, while each breath I pulled in carried with it a pile of sawdust. Sophie-Anne was entertaining a group of short, balding, middle-aged men. Probably accountants. From what I could gather, she was still floundering in debt.

But that was none of my business.

After they were dismissed, she turned, looking me up and down, appraising my appearance. A dress had been delivered to my room earlier in the day along with the "invitation" to court, a royal blue halter with an empire waist—gorgeous, actually. The material was a fine silk, only a little thicker than lace, but it felt like it had been spun from solid gold and weighed at least one hundred pounds.

"Sookie, dear, you should really use that eye cream I gave you. You've been looking quite haggard these days."

I looked at her, debating whether or not an excruciating punishment was worth telling her that all the cosmetics in the world wouldn't make me look any better, and that she could just shove her precious eye cream, then decided it wasn't a good time. I nodded instead.

"Your skills better be sharp tonight," she continued. "The King of Mississippi will be arriving here shortly, and you need to make a good impression."

She said that like it would mean something to me.

I nodded again anyway. Just another show. Dance, monkey. Dance.

A minute or two later Siegbert entered the room. Despite his size, his heavy boots made very little noise on the stone floor. He came to a stop a few feet away from the Queen, his six-foot-nine frame dwarfing her five-foot-three.

"King Russell is here, majesty. He has guest with him."

Sophie-Anne simply flipped her hair over shoulder, pulled a compact out of nowhere to check her flawless makeup, and said, "Bring them in."

Siegbert leaned forward in an awkward bow, and then disappeared into the hallway, only to return some time later leading two men. I didn't recognize either one of them, but the taller, muscular man locked his eyes with mine and didn't let go.

He was tall and tan, with dark hair curling around his ears like ivy. Beneath the red flannel shirt, I could see the strength rippling beneath thin layers of cotton and skin. A quick glimpse into his thoughts told me he wasn't human, probably another shifter like Sam. His partner—a vampire—addressed the Queen, not bothering with introductions. The other man had yet to look away from me.

"Sophie-Anne, so nice to see you," he said, but his tone implied otherwise.

"Yes, it's been quite some time." I could tell this guy was important because the Queen actually lifted off her throne and went to greet him. "How are things in Mississippi?"

"Things are well. And I must say, your palace looks lovely."

"Thank you." She bowed her head.

"Yes, it's quite remarkable," he said, looking around him, his eyes never quite landing on me. "You'd never know of your . . . _delicate_ financial situation. Unless you knew better, of course."

Sophie-Anne stiffened, her smile slipping into a grimace for a second before returning. I had to fight to hide a smile of my own. The pleasure of seeing her suffer a direct insult pierced through the pain like sunshine.

_If you're Sookie, blink once and scratch your left arm. _

Huh? That brought me right back down. I looked around for the voice, wondering who just contacted me, though it didn't take very long. The other newcomer, the muscle who had yet to speak, was _still _mowing me down with a fierce glare.

I swallowed, slowly blinked my eyes, and then itched my arm. The stranger gave away nothing; even his mind stonewalled me. All I found there was snarls of emotion. He must have known to think _at _me. But . . . how?

As soon as my hand lowered back to my side, I heard his voice in my head again.

_I'm Alcide. Hang tight and play along. We're getting you out of here._

Of all the reasons he could have given for speaking to me in my head, I wasn't expecting that one. He was a stranger; they both were. Where was _Eric? _I needed _him_ to rescue me_. _Not these strange men I'd never seen before. Even if they did manage to get me out, how did I know they didn't have other, _worse_ plans for me?

"Sookie!" the Queen snapped. I stepped forward, almost tripping on the hem of my gown. Stupid stilettos. "Pay attention."

"Sorry, majesty."

I was jumpy, nervous; I had no idea whether or not I could trust these two strangers. Alcide seemed earnest enough. When I looked in his eyes, the gaze was strong, honest. But the other man—the vampire—he made me nervous. Maybe I was prejudice, but I had met very few vampires that weren't conniving assholes.

"Ah, so this is Ms. Stackhouse." The vampire king finally noticed me. His voice was a soft hiss burdened by a heavy southern accent. It took less than three steps for him to close the distance between us, sweep up my cold hand with his colder one, and raise it to his lips. "At last we meet. You can call me Russell.'"

"Glad to meet you," I replied.

He smiled, seemingly pleased, and then turned to the Queen. "Quite the charmer isn't she?"

Sophie-Anne just smiled and said, "My Sookie is full of surprises."

After a few seconds, it became apparent that no one was going to introduce Alcide, so he stepped forward.

"I'm Alcide," he said. His real voice was much deeper than his thoughts. He reached forward to shake my hand, the contact making his thoughts even clearer. I caught a quick glimpse and then gasped, dropping his hand and backing away.

_Eric_. He knew something about Eric.

Both vampires turned to look at me, their expressions blank. "Is everything all right, Sookie?"

"I'm fine," I said, racing to come up with an excuse. "Just a little . . . I didn't know werewolves were real!" In addition to _that _flash, I'd picked up just what kind of two-natured family Alcide belonged to. Hopefully, the two vamps would just chuck up my reaction to stupidity and naïveté.

They did.

"My, my . . ." Russell said, his voice soft. "You are innocent, aren't you? Gifted, but innocent." He patted my cheek just in case he wasn't being condescending enough.

"Yes, well, I like to keep my Sookie a secret. Don't want too many supes coming after her," Sophie-Anne spoke up, giving me a severe warning glare. "Of course, I'm thrilled to demonstrate what she can do. I'm sure she can assist you with your staff—for a fee, of course."

Throughout their short exchange, I did my best to weed through the colorful tangles that were Alcide's thoughts, but couldn't pick up anything else about the flash I'd seen. If he knew what I was doing, he didn't seem to mind. He gave me full access, hiding nothing and meeting my gaze with a steady, calming stare.

I only looked away when Russell picked up a strand of my hair, rubbing it between two long fingers. "Yes, and I'm sure we can find some other uses for her as well." He then lifted my hair to his nose and breathed deep. "She smells absolutely divine."

A slow trickle turned into an avalanche of needles down my spin the longer Russell touched me, but I had to endure him.

"Tell me, Sookie," He leaned in closer, his breath sickly sweet in my nose, churning my stomach. "What else can you see in Alcide's mind?"

_Tell Russell that I'm working for him._

"He works for you," I said automatically.

_He's negotiating a treaty with the weres in his kingdom and I'm the liaison._

I repeated the information verbatim.

_Tell him that I'm loyal. I'd been approached by other weres several times to betray him, but I refused. _

When I was done telling Russell what I'd heard both he and Sophie-Anne looked intrigued. "So you can read weres?"

I shrugged. "I guess. But vampires have always been blank. Nothing but big, empty voids." The disclaimer was automatic now.

"Interesting . . ." Russell's fingers left my hair to stroke his chin. He turned to address Sophie-Anne a second or two later. "I have a few others I'd like her to read. I can have her back to you in two nights."

My heartbeat tripled. This was it—my way out. The adrenaline was enough to push back the pain a little further. My breath was suddenly coming easier and the world around me came into more focus. In the far corner of the room, there was a flash of movement that caught my eye, but when I turned around, all I saw was a tall, familiar shadow melt into the stone. Just another hallucination.

"Oh, no, no. That is _not _an option." The Queen shook her head so hard, her hair lifted from her neck and shoulders like a frilly party dress, still moving after she had stopped. "Sookie never leaves the premises. You will have to bring your people here for her to read."

I automatically opened my mouth to protest, but a sharp glare from Alcide silenced the words in my throat.

_Let him handle this._

Russell's smile never faltered and his expression held no trace of annoyance. Instead of arguing with the Queen, he simply took a step back, stared at his feet for a moment, and then changed the subject. "How much do you owe the IRS again, Ms. Leclerq? Last I heard it was somewhere around three million."

I could practically hear the teeth grinding inside her skull and had to swallow another smile. ". . . Somewhere around there, yes."

"Now, I think that's a more than fair price for this delightful creature, here," Russell continued, gesturing in my direction.

Sophie-Anne looked between me and Russell a few times, then crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one side. "You want to buy my telepath?"

In case we had any question about the skepticism in her voice, she raised one perfect, red brow.

Rather than start an argument, Russell reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook followed by a large, gold pen that looked like it could have cost more than the Prada dress I was currently wearing. For a few seconds, the only noise in the room was the tip of the pen scribbling on the thick paper.

"That's exactly what I'm proposing," he said, slipping the pen back inside his jacket. Then he licked his fingers, folded the check along the perforations, and tore it away from its binding before presenting it to her between two pinched fingers. "Do we have a deal?"

Once again, she looked back and forth between me and Russell, though I had a hard time figuring out why she was struggling with the decision. Sure, it must have been nice knowing what was going on inside a couple questionable humans, not to mention I made a fabulous party game, but . . . that was three _million_ dollars in his hand. He'd whipped up that check like he was ordering Girl Scout cookies.

It wasn't like I was okay with the fact that I was being sold, but if I could get out of here without having to kick and fight and get hurt, then I would swallow my pride. I was already in enough pain, thank you very much.

The Queen's response came slowly, like she was waiting for the other shoe to fall. "I think that's fair . . ."

"Excellent!"

She reached for the check, but Russell yanked it away at the last second.

When the other shoe fell, it fell hard_. _

"Just one more thing, darling," Russell smiled, his delight evident in his eyes. I'd say I'm doing you a pretty big favor, taking care of all your debts and such. In return, I have one small request." His pinched his fingers as if to demonstrate.

Meanwhile, I wanted to scream. Why couldn't he just hand over the money, and get me the hell out of there, so I could get the hell back to Eric? I could only sand still for so long.

The Queen seemed to share my exasperation as she huffed and popped her hip, all traces of hospitality out the window. "What else do you want?"

Russell's grin immediately turned into a blinding smile so wide that his eyes almost disappearing into the resulting crinkles. "I want _you_, my dear," he said. "I want you to be my wife."

"Out of the question."

"Pity," he made a show of looking upset. "Then I guess I'll just rip up this check and be on my way."

Sweat started to pour off of me. I was half a second away from throwing myself to the ground and clutching his ankles until he either dragged me out of there or beat me off him, but another dangerous look from Alcide, and I found a little more self-control buried deep somewhere.

"Don't!" The Queen hissed as the strained paper finally began to tear, buckling beneath the pressure.

"So you do agree to marry me?"

"I want to maintain control of Louisiana and all my assets," she said. "And I want full access to her. In fact, she will stay here with me." She pointed a finger at me, one of many that was adorned with a gaudy cocktail ring.

Frustration was happily chipping away at the very last shred of self-control holding me together. It was only a matter of minutes before it became nothing but dust.

"You are in no position to negotiate, my dear. You will marry me, and _I_ will have access to all _your_ resources as I have need of them. In turn, I will support you financially. As for Sookie, she is far too valuable to leave behind, so I will be taking her with me. If you want to make use of her abilities, then you will have to go through the proper channels like everyone else."

The Queen growled and began to pace, her stilettos bouncing off the floor, leaving loud echoes in their wake. Everything else was silent, except for the thumping in my chest. The pain had progressed to the point where I could no longer keep the tremors in my hands and arms a secret. Between her footsteps and the rattling going on inside my body, we made a pretty good rhythm section.

"Think about it, Sophie-Anne. All those pesky debts erased. The IRS off your back. You can be free again, the way a vampire queen should be. I'd be a generous husband; your quality of life shan't suffer at all."

Her steps slowed, but they didn't stop. After what felt like an eternity and then some, she froze in front of Russell, moving deep into his personal space. The move was not intimate as much as it was a challenge.

"I accept."

Russell wasted no time, and whipped out some kind of document—probably a contract of some sort—and made Sophie-Anne sign it, while I tried to process what just happened.

I was sold. Sold into possible freedom. The irony was exquisite. As I watched the two monarchs argue over some detail in the forms, the old "devil you know" alarm began to go off in my head. I ignored it. The deed was done.

Once all the Is were dotted and all the Ts were crossed, it was finally time to go.

Alcide smiled. _Let's get you home._

The four most beautiful words in any language.

And then we left. No formal goodbyes, no instructions or threats from the Queen. We just walked out—Alcide the werewolf, Russell the vampire king, and Sookie the telepath. I'd come here with nothing and wanted nothing to do with the Queen's gifts, so I didn't even have to pack. Talk about liberating.

Siegbert nodded but said nothing when we passed and neither did any of the other vampire guards. No one so much as blinked when Alcide pulled open the massive, exterior doors, the last barrier between me and the glorious smell of freedom I'd been trying to reach for weeks. It was all so easy for those who had permission.

Russell walked—or sauntered, really—ahead of me and Alcide, who stayed right by my side the entire trip to the limo. I hesitated before getting in, unable to shake off the flashes of the last time I'd been in a limo. Eric was with me; he'd been so certain that we would stay together—look what happened. Standing there, I felt like I'd been punched in the face by a big, old brick of déjà vu.

"Get in," Alcide prodded, holding the door open for me. "You'll be fine. I promise we're the good guys."

Then Russell chimed in behind me, sounding not so polite. "Let's get a move on, please. I still have a lot to do before sunrise."

Alcide placed his hot hand on my lower back and guided me into the dark vehicle. Once he and Russell had climbed in and the door was closed, I was instantly claustrophobic. The black windows on either side, dark enough to prevent any light from penetrating, created a coffin instead of a car.

After we'd been driving a few minutes, Russell pulled out a cell phone and began talking to someone in another language. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. To me, it sounded like a combination of French and German, but I had about as much experience with those languages as I did with astrophysics. That is to say, none.

The call was brief, no more than a minute or two, and once he disconnected, it was back to awkward silence, swimming thoughts, and excruciating carsickness.

"Where are we going?" I asked, more to distract myself than because I cared. It didn't matter where we were heading, because once I was there, I was going to escape and head back to Bon Temps . . . and Eric. I knew that Alcide was connected to him in some way, so I was praying he'd help me.

Russell dismissed me with a little wave of the hand. "You'll know soon enough."

When I turned to Alcide for an explanation, he just shrugged and started asking me questions instead.

"So how long have you been telepathic?"

It took a great deal of effort to tear my attention away from the shards of glass jabbing my joints and veins to answer him.

"My whole life."

"I bet that got old pretty fast."

"You have no idea."

"Well, you can relax around me. I promise I won't be shooting any more thoughts in your direction."

Normally, the smile he flashed would have made me giggle, turn red, and twirl my hair, but I found myself looking for the mischief and danger that Eric's rare smiles always seemed to exude. There was none of that in Alcide, only kindness and honesty. It made me want Eric even more.

"Oh, give me a break," Russell muttered, then rolled his eyes.

Alcide ignored him and continued to ask me questions, which I did my best to answer. Normal questions like where I grew up, what my family was like. Work, friends. The usual. I wasn't really present in the conversation; most of my attention was focused on figuring out how to get away once we arrived at our "secret destination," and wondering how to get in contact with Eric. God, even thinking his name hurt. I needed him, straight up, undiluted, and all over me.

After a few more obnoxious jabs, commenting on our "simple, pathetic existence," Russell fell silent and began texting furiously on his cell phone. But even with Alcide's distracting questions, time passed like cold molasses. The black glass enveloped in the darkness made it impossible to see where we were going. The streetlights were nothing but dull orbs flashing over the glass, lingering just long enough for me to think I'd caught the silhouette of a familiar tree, or sign, or building.

But I never did.

The streetlights eventually grew few and far between before stopping altogether. The texture of the road grew noticeably rough, but I still couldn't make out where we were. It felt like days had passed before the limo finally came to a stop, leaving me as clueless as when we'd left New Orleans.

"Where are we?"

My question was brushed aside for the second time that night when Alcide and Russell began to argue.

"I'll wait here with her."

"You will do no such thing, you stupid beast." Russell curled his lip, but Alcide didn't flinch. "Your part is done here. Time for you to go. Besides, Sookie and I have yet to get to know each other."

He looked at me then, and I shivered. But that could have been from the sickness. The pain was worse now than it ever was in New Orleans. It felt like a fifty-pound weight had been pressed against my chest. Breathing now required a concentrated effort.

"That was not the agreement—"

"The _agreement_," Russell interrupted, "was that you could escort her back. Look around you: we're here. So you can go. Or do I have to set _my _dogs on _you_?"

Alcide's fists clenched, and a thick cord was strained in his neck. His voice lowered to a growl. "Then I'll stay with you—"

"I'm tired of you. Leave now." The words were simple, but they were laced with arsenic. When paired with the look in Russell's eyes, Alcide had no choice but to swallow them.

Red fire ignited in his own eyes, but Alcide through open the door of the limo, the force strong enough to rock the oversized coffin back and forth, and then stepped out. He turned back to offer me his hand and help me out, but I was already scrambling past him.

The instant I got a whiff of the surrounding, wet woods and heard the crickets—_my_ crickets—I knew exactly where we were.

I lurched for the open door, practically falling onto the gravel. The sharp little rocks dug into my knees, tearing holes in my dust as I hit the ground, but I didn't care. If anything, they were the pinch to let me know I wasn't dreaming.

I was home. Really, truly home.

Dust billowed beneath me as I clawed at the ground, dulling the sheen of my dress. As soon as I was back on my feet, I kicked off my shoes and sprinted toward the old porch steps.

Alcide called after me, but I paid him no mind, instead throwing my weight against the door, trying to remember why it wouldn't let me in.

"Let her go," Russell said. "I'll deal with her in a bit. But you really need to leave. That wet-dog stench actually may make me vomit."

Alcide said something else, too low for me to hear, but I wasn't listening. The soles of my feet remembered each knot, every splinter of the faded wood. The boards still clung to the day's warmth, which felt like heaven on my skin.

I pushed and pulled at the front door, then ran around to the one next to the kitchen only to find them both locked. It took several minutes of frantic pounding and frustration before I remembered the spare key that Gran had hidden.

All along the railings used to hang flower boxes filled with peonies of all different colors—Gran's favorite. The flowers were long dead, but the key was still there, taped under the lip of the flowerbox closest to the door.

Not four seconds later, I was inside, officially home. I didn't bother to close the door behind me or even take the key out of the lock; the need to remind myself of being at home was too powerful to ignore. I wandered through the rooms, shocked by how . . . ordinary they all looked. It was like I'd only been gone a few hours rather than weeks.

A layer of dust covered everything, even the rumpled blankets on the couch, preserving life at home the way it was when someone lived there. The more I looked around, the more I felt like I was in a tomb or some kind of morbid museum.

But I could handle all that. A good go-round with furniture polish and some serious elbow grease should take care of the mausoleum atmosphere. No big deal . . .

I was doing fine getting reacquainted until I got to the kitchen. The one Eric had rebuilt.

A few steps into the room, and a cheese grater began running backward up my spine. The pain was blinding, a cold spike driven deep into all four of my molars. I turned back toward the hallway, reaching out with my senses for the familiar patterns and smells of Gran's house.

The pain only grew worse. My skin was hot as lava and my bones were frozen glaciers holding my body together. A dull ringing quickly grew into a roar, vibrating over my entire body.

I was collapsed on the cool tiles for some time, clutching my head to try and silence the ringing, before I heard Russell's reedy voice calling me. "Sookie . . ." he almost sang. "Sookie, won't you come speak to me, sweetheart."

I groaned, the most coherent response left in my arsenal.

"Come now, Ms. Stackhouse. I promise I'm an excellent conversationalist. Much better than that _dog_ stinking up my limo."

I could hear him standing on my porch, in my doorway. I knew he wanted an invitation, but even if I wanted to, the pain in my head had locked up my jaw.

The more time that passed, the worse it got. Something was coming for me. I could feel it closing the distance. Something dark and powerful. Dangerous. I groaned again, the shockwave of my own voice ripping open a cavern in my head from ear to frontal lobe.

Jesus Christ, couldn't a girl get a break?

"Oh, dear, you don't sound like you're doing very well. Maybe you should let me in. I can help you, you know."

Another involuntary sound emanated from my mouth, ripping open another hole in my head. The dark presence had moved much closer.

"What was that?" Russell called. "I didn't quite hear you? Did you invite me in?"

Based on the immediate growl of frustration, it was clear he'd attempted to cross the threshold and failed.

Darkness pooled in the corners of my vision, threatening to swallow it all in a wave of vertigo. The sensation was all too familiar. The pain, the darkness, being locked inside my body. It had to be Lempo. He was coming back for me.

Despite the needles in my lungs, my breathing increased, and the thumping in my chest amplified. I was terrified, screaming for Eric with my entire body.

Outside I heard others arrive. Footsteps on gravel—more than one person. Their steps were strong, authoritative.

"Where is she?" The ringing stopped immediately, the voice cutting through it like a weed whacker. My head shot up off the ground, eyes focused on the front door. "Where's Sookie?"

It couldn't be . . .

I lurched, finding an untapped source of strength great enough to pick myself off the floor. I clung to the wall, straining to hear that milky voice again.

"Thank, Christ. It's about time you people got here."

"Sorry, darling," another voice said, one I didn't recognize. "It was a hellish trip up here. I must have eaten dozens of those flying insects. Absolutely disgusting Where's the girl?"

"Out little creampuff has locked herself inside and refuses to invite anyone in."

Supporting myself with both hands on the wall, I made my way into the foyer, straining to see if _he_ was really on my lawn. After all the hallucinations I'd had in New Orleans on top of my rapidly degrading, barely there sanity, it was more than likely I was imagining everything yet again.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. You know how touchy humans can be."

"Such useless, uncultured creatures. I don't know why we even bother." For a vampire king, Russell sure did whine a lot. "This one is thankless, too. You better not be lying to me, Northman. Her blood better be absolute magic."

"It's the finest in Louisiana, majesty. A delicacy."

That was it. The rubber band snapped, and I flung myself onto the porch, ravenous for the feel of Eric wrapped all over me. His cool breath on my neck, his hands on my skin, around my waist, stroking my back. The ancient smell of his thousand years fighting and living. I'd barely stumbled outside when his voice, alight with some kind of emotion, washed over me like a cool rain.

"_Sookie_."

I whirled in his direction, losing my balance in the process. My hands slipped, and I would have smashed my face on the railing were it not for the pair of strong arms that came around my waist and held me up.

Too bad they were the wrong ones.

**See? They're together-ish now. Sorry to cut it off there, but I didn't want to take away from their **_**official**_** reunion—if you know what I mean ;)**

**And I apologize for the 6-month hiatus. Life was a whole lot of suck with far too much work, a month of some rather difficult health issues, and a bit of moving thrown in. I haven't abandoned this story and promise that it won't be so long between updates again. /excuses**


	20. Chapter 20

**Two chapters in 7 days? I must be off my rocker. And I do believe many of you have been looking forward to this one for some time. *****hopes you likes it***** : )**

"Well, look who's decided to join our little soiree."

Russell whirled me around and pulled me flush against his chest. His hands were clamped firmly on my shoulders, each one as heavy as two hundred pound weights. I tried to struggle, but he only squeezed me to the point of pain.

Still, even when restrained, it took less than a second to find Eric. He was standing at the very bottom of the porch steps, looking up at me. His mouth was pulled into a thin line, but otherwise, he seemed relatively relaxed. Other than strong eye contact, he showed no interest in me whatsoever.

"Don't hurt her." His tone was bored, almost disinterested.

"You don't tell me what to do, Viking." To prove his point, Russell tightened his grip even more, and I couldn't hold back a small whimper, loud enough to be heard over the stretching tendons and cracking joints. The immediate descent of fangs over his lower lip was a welcome sign that some part of Eric still cared.

"How adorable," Russell mocked. "The mighty Eric Northman worried about a human girl. I wondered why you promised so much to get her back for you." His laughter reverberated throughout my body, a gross uncomfortable sensation.

"Oh, leave him alone Russ-Russ. I think they're cute—in a kind of tragic, Romeo and Juliet way." I'd forgotten there was another vampire present until he'd spoken. He was leaning against the far railing, arms crossed over his chest. Though his skin radiated the trademark vampire pallor, he still carried with him a sun-kissed glow. He was a very pretty vampire, and the way he looked at Russell reminded me of how Gran used to look at Grandpa Earl. "A vampire in love with a human. Doomed from the start."

"This is not the time, Talbot."

"But just look at him," Talbot continued. "He hasn't taken his eyes off of her. That boy is so head over heels he doesn't know which way is up."

I could hear Russell roll his eyes behind me. "Well then he shouldn't have offered to give her to me."

"—her blood." Eric spoke up. "I offered you her blood. She is still mine."

"You should have sent someone else to fetch her then," Russell sneered. "I've only spent a little time with her, but I'm quite taken already." I heard him inhale, his nose practically tangled in strands of my hair. "She would make an excellent addition to my collection."

Eric's hands turned to fists, but he didn't move.

Disgusted with the creepy vampire sniffing me, and sick of being excluded from conversations about my future, I squirmed some more, trying to move my head away from his face. "Excuse me, but I'm most definitely Eric's."

"Not from where I'm standing."

"Oh, please husband, darling, get over yourself," Talbot said, his voice growing louder. "I don't believe you could be so cruel. These two haven't seen each other in weeks, and you refuse to show them any mercy?"

Russell tried to respond, but Talbot wouldn't let him. Clearly, there were some deeper issues between the power couple that I was about to become privy to. Lucky me.

"When did you become so cynical? They love each other, and you trivialize it. Is that what you think of love? Is that what you think of me?"

"This is not the time," Russell hissed.

I wanted to laugh. I'd seen arguments exactly like this many times before at Merlotte's. The last thing any husband should say to a borderline hysterical, neglected wife is, "this is not the time." I glanced at Eric to see if he had any thoughts on this new situation, but his expression was still completely neutral. Then, slowly, he moved up the porch one step.

Right on cue, Hurricane Talbot struck with the fury of a lover dismissed, hitting hard enough to make everyone, even Russell, twitch. "_Then when?_" he shrieked. "You're never home any more, and even when you are, you're working. I never see you! So _when_, lover? When would we have this conversation?"

"Talbot, listen to me—"

"What happened to the loving, joyful man I fell in love with? He would have rejoiced in bringing these two together. But now . . . now you only care about making a profit off of them. How romantic."

Eric, taking full advantage of the situation, moved up another step. The pull in my chest grew stronger the closer he got, almost like a magnet. I saw the intensity flare in his eyes, and felt the flare of heat blast across the cool night air between us.

"With my position comes certain expectations." The exasperation was more than evident in his tone. "We've discussed this how many times?"

Instead of calming Talbot, Russell's pathetic excuse seemed to agitate him more, evident in the ferocity with which he started to pace the length of my porch.

"Yes, I know. We've discussed it countless time. You always promise me that things will be different, that you'll be more attentive, go out of your way to see me, but you never do. I see less of you now than ever before." He began to break down. "You don't love me any more. You love that _fucking_ title and all the power that goes with it."

Choked sobs prevented anyone from understanding anything else that Talbot was saying. We all watched as steady rivers of blood flowed down his face, staining his expensive silk shirt and my porch.

Russell fell silent behind me, and the only sound left was Talbot's crying. One arm was pulled across his body and his free hand cradled his face smearing bloody tears all over—the picture of broken-hearted misery. I actually managed to scrounge up a little pity to throw his way.

When Russell spoke again, several minutes later, his voice was much softer, repentant even. His resolve was also weakening; the grip on my shoulders wasn't as tight. "Talby . . . you know that's not true."

"How am I supposed to know that? We never spend any time together." He leaned against the doorframe, both hands rubbing his eyes now. The fire and rage had left his voice, leaving only defeat in their wake. "Do you know how excited I was to come with you tonight? To watch you work? To actually spend time with you? I thought it was a new beginning for us, but here you are . . . destroying two more people's lives. When does it end?"

Russell didn't hesitate before releasing me to go comfort Talbot, whispering something in another language. Honestly, I stopped paying attention to their little tiff the instant I was free. Eric was already moving toward me, and I wasted no time before flinging myself at him.

If I was still harboring fear that he would reject me, it evaporated the instant his arms closed around my back. Finally. After weeks of agony, the universe fell back into place. I felt Eric's chest expand as he breathed my scent back into his body, his arms growing even tighter around me.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. His voice made my blood both sing and boil at the same time. Such a delicious feeling.

I nodded against him, unable to speak around the ball of joy in my throat.

Eric just growled. A happy sound.

But it didn't last long. Before we could go inside or make any kind of proactive move, Eric was ripped away from me and flung across the porch and through the railing into the bushes below.

"Eric!"

Russell said nothing as he approached me, his fangs reflecting in the starlight. His eyes were cold and vacant, his arms stiff at his sides. Fear flooded my bloodstream and caused my heart to thump hard enough to break ribs—a welcome sound for any vampire.

"Please, Russell," Talbot called. "Let's just go home, leave them be. We don't need to do this."

"I promise, Talby," his eyes never left my throat. "After tonight things will be different. We'll go somewhere far away—back to Europe, perhaps—and spend months together. Just you and me. But not until we have Ms. Stackhouse settled into Mississippi. She smells too potent, her skills too valuable." He licked his lips. "I need her."

I gulped, finding absolutely nothing reassuring in his speech, and tried to take a step back, but the porch railing kept me from going too far.

Russell was close enough to smell his aftershave when Eric reappeared, a little dusty with twigs in his hair and tangled in the pockets of his leather jacket, but otherwise unharmed. His expression was nothing short of deadly.

"Leave her alone, Russell."

"You think you can stop me, Viking? I am three times your age. Killing you would be a joy."

Such a direct threat to Eric's life was too much for me to handle, and I didn't pause to think whether it was because of the curse, or something deeper, not after it took so long for us to find our way back to each other. So I did the only thing I could in the situation.

"Bite me," I said to Russell. "Drain me right now, I don't care. Just leave him alone."

It wasn't much of a plan, just a desperate move based on a passing mention Sophie-Anne had let slip back when I almost escaped, but it was all I had.

"Sookie, don't."

I ignored Eric and continued to address Russell. "After all, you want to make sure what you're getting is worth all this trouble, right? How do you know it's not all hype? Some stupid trick of Sophie-Anne's to get herself out of debt?"

I was leaning against the older section of the porch, the one that was begging to be rebuilt, and there were old nails protruding all around me. In case I wasn't a big enough temptation, I pressed my palm against one of the old nails, drawing a small pool of crimson in the center of my hand.

Russell struck like a cobra—unexpected and impossibly fast. One second, I was waving my hand back and forth in front of him, watching as his fangs grew even longer, and the next he was buried to the upper lip in my arm. I felt tooth strike bone and bit back the scream of pain.

_"William was able to track you," she said. "I know how you feel about him, but he was the only one here who'd given you their blood before the whole Lempo ordeal. I'd have had you take some of mine or Siegbert's, but we all know what could happen then, and we don't want to take any chances, now do we?"_

_"Say that again?"_

_"You had William's blood, so naturally—"_

_"—no, the other part."_

_"Oh, hmm, I thought you knew . . . Yes, well, it's been said that bonds such as those between you and Eric are very tricky. There have been instances before with Lempo's bond where one of the cursed drank from someone else and was poisoned. I heard it was an awful death, too . . ."_

God, I hoped that wasn't just Sophie-Anne blowing smoke out of her ass, because right now, I was having some serious doubts about this idea.

Russell moaned in delight as he sucked mouthful after mouthful of my blood. It ran in little streams from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and running down his neck. Talbot had calmed down enough to watch the action, his own fangs beginning to peak out from behind his lips. Eric, however, was not the least bit curious or interested in the liquid flowing from my arm. He was enraged. I could see the death in his eyes, smell the hate wafting out of him.

Not sure how to calm him, I maintained eye contact, hoping it would be enough to keep him at bay. Though, I wasn't sure if that was a good idea any more either. Russell seemed to be enjoying my blood quite a bit, if the tent in his pants were any indication, and showed no signs of slowing down—let alone dying. He'd been at it for almost two minutes, and the only change in his feeding was hungrier, stronger pulls into his mouth. His slimy tongue lapped at my skin, making sure to clean every last drop off my skin.

Eric was losing more and more self-control by the second. He was panting now, each exhale, a low, dangerous growl. But he somehow managed to hold his ground.

"Oh, _my_ . . . Ms. Stackhouse," Russell said, finally releasing my wrist. "Your blood is _heavenly_, pure sunshine sprinkled with honey and spice."

He was giddy, practically skipping back and forth across the porch while I clutched my wrist to my chest and tried to stop the bleeding. Eric stepped toward me, but Russell shoved him off the porch once again, a happy grin decorating his face.

It went on like that for some time. Russell dancing and shouting his delight, Talbot watching him with a sad expression, Eric playing the part of Russell's punching bag, and me helpless to do anything but bleed and start the process all over again. Hope drained out of me faster than the blood in my arm, but I continued to wait for something—anything—to happen.

Finally, it did.

"Talbot you must try this; she's so delightful. I swear, I'm at least three times stronger." He yanked Russell over to where I was standing, calling out to Eric over his shoulder. "I can see why you wouldn't have wanted to give her up—"

Russell froze.

I held my breath.

He started to turn slowly, almost like he was hovering off the ground. Shock showed through his eyes like a beacon and black slime oozed from his mouth.

Talbot was by his side in an instant. "What is it, Russ-Russ? What's happening to you."

The only response I could make out was some unintelligible words followed by a loud groan. Russell clutched at his stomach and bent in half—a sudden violent contortion even a vampire's body couldn't handle. The snap of his spine was as loud as a tree limb splitting off from its trunk.

An unearthly yowl ripped forth from his throat, coating the air with his pain. He fell to his knees with a soft thud, clutching at Talbot like his life depended on it.

"What did you do to him?" Talbot shouted first at Eric and then me. "Fix him!"

Neither of us moved. There was nothing we could have done if we wanted to. We simply stood by, and watched Talbot comfort Russell right up to the bitter end. After what seemed like an eternity, the King of Mississippi disappeared, disintegrating into a pile of black, sticky goo.

Talbot screamed long and loud, gathering into his arms the mess that used to be his lover like he could put him back together. All it did was make a bigger mess.

There were no calls for vengeance or anger, just grief. He kept pulling at the stringy mess, making it so much worse, but he refused to stop. Blood soaked his face, dripping into Russell's remains like a newborn waterfall.

Eric finally stepped forward and pulled off one of the decorative posts beneath the porch railing with a quick jerk of the arm. It didn't take a genius to see what he was planning, so I curled into the corner, pulling my knees into my chest. Tonight had been hard enough already.

Talbot paid no attention as Eric crept up behind him, the piece of wood raised in his arm. He simply continued to drown in his sadness.

I closed my eyes.

It was over quickly. A loud grunt and then the sound of a pot of thick stew being dumped onto the porch.

A few seconds later, I felt rather than saw Eric kneel in front of me when that long-awaited sense of security and calm came around me like a warm blanket. It was over—really over.

"It's done."

Eric reached for my bleeding wrist and brought it to his lips. He followed the little trickle of blood running down my arm with his tongue up to Russell's punctures, which he sealed with a gentle swirl.

With Eric's help, I climbed to my feet, and neither of us let go as we went inside, leaving the remains of Russell and Talbot to be cleaned another time. He kept me close all the way into the living room, not that I minded. This was the reunion I'd been looking forward to for weeks, and I savored every second like it was the last bite of one of Gran's pies.

Sure, I had more than enough reasons to be furious with him for abandoning me, torturing me with those stupid fake rescues, for being cursed in the first place. We were only in this situation because he was selfish and couldn't leave well enough alone.

But I wasn't furious. Hell, I wasn't even annoyed. All of it just seemed so unimportant now. We were together. No one was coming after us, and we were safe. What else mattered?

We sat next to each other on the couch, which lasted all of two seconds before Eric pulled me onto his lap. Instead of protesting, I simply lay my head on his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of having him wrapped around me after going so long without.

We were quiet for almost an hour before he spoke, picking up conversations like we'd never been apart. "How did you know that Russell had to bite you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Can we talk about something else, please? We've been dealing with this for a whole month. Let's just take a break."

And of course, in typical Eric fashion, he totally ignored me. "Pam didn't find out about the blood situation until after you'd been gone a few weeks. So how did you know?"

"I didn't know. Not for sure, anyway. Sophie-Anne just mentioned it once. It was the only thing I could think of to keep him from hurting you."

Eric sounded indignant. "He didn't hurt me."

"Yeah, right. So I imagined him tossing you back and forth across my porch like a rag doll?"

A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, but he didn't say anything. So I continued.

"Russell biting me was the plan, wasn't it?" I pushed. "Isn't that why you were all _'oh, Sookie's blood is a delicacy_'?"

He nodded. Eventually. "It was. I intended to offer him a taste, but then I couldn't risk him losing control and draining you. I wouldn't have been able to stop him." He said that last part like it was a confession.

"Well, then I guess it was a good thing I spoke up instead of letting him kick the snot out of you."

Eric's fingers lost themselves in my hair, coaxing all of the remaining tension out of my body, a rhythmic stroking from the crown of my head down to the nape of my neck. If I could, I would have purred like an engine. He kept it up for some time, lulling me into a deeper sense of security, so that when he suddenly flipped our positions on the couch, pinning me beneath his much larger frame, I could be totally shocked. Such a thoughtful one, he is.

"He wouldn't have beaten me with you there, you know." He nuzzled my neck. "I feel so much stronger when we're together, Sookie. More than before we were cursed."

I stroked the back of his head, giving him a similar treatment to the one he'd just given me, not sure I liked what he was implying. So I changed the subject.

"How did you convince Russell to go to Sophie-Anne anyway? He didn't seem the type to do favors."

Eric didn't argue with the change of direction and dropped the "I like being cursed with you" talk.

"It wasn't easy. I had to guarantee that Sophie-Anne would consent to marriage and give him control over Louisiana, I would pay him a tribute of two million dollars every quarter, and I would give him full access to you."

Even though the rational part of my mind knew he didn't mean the last part, the words still carried with them a bitter taste. Apparently Eric felt it, too, because he studiously avoided my eyes when he said it.

"Talbot was with me in Fangtasia when Russell went to New Orleans. Pam agreed to be used as collateral in case Sophie-Anne refused the proposal."

"What?" I asked, confused. "How does that work?"

"It means she was strapped to a table with silver and a stake pressed against her heart. All Talbot needed was a text from Russell and she would be gone."

It took me a few minutes to speak. "Why? Why would she—"

"Because she understands how important it was for me to get you back," he said. "I made sure Talbot released her before we came here."

". . . and Alcide?"

Eric sneered when I mentioned the name. "He was the only protection from Russell I could give you until I arrived."

A comfortable silence filled what little space was left between us. I could feel the strength filtering back into my body. My muscles were relaxed and the horrible knot in my chest had finally let go. I wasn't nauseous or in any kind of pain, only calm and peace. Finally, things were exactly the way they were meant to be.

We stayed that way on the couch, him pressing his weight on top of me, for what seemed like the entire night. It was our recovery process, reacquainting ourselves; it was necessary and therapeutic. Feeling the sharp angles of his body all over me was what brought me back to life.

I couldn't be sure which one of us started it, but it was pretty clear that we were both willing participants. It was slow, not rushed. We needed to reconnect, and had the rest of the night to do it.

His hands began to roam, up the side of my leg, over the curve of my hip, and across my body, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the bottom swell of my breasts.

"You're skinnier," he noted. His entire hand almost covered my abdomen. "Did they not feed you in New Orleans?"

My fingers contented themselves beneath the leather sleeves, playing in the forest of soft, yellow hairs on his forearms. "I couldn't eat much," was all I said, too distracted by the softness of his skin to generate a more elaborate response.

Pressing a hand firmly to his chest, I pushed him back into a sitting position, my own body following suit. I pushed the leather off his shoulders and lifted the black tank top over his head, tossing it across the room. Now it was my turn to trace the curves of his muscles while his hands came to rest at my waist. Vampire physiques are unchanging, so he felt as hard and strong as I remembered.

"You should eat."

I licked his neck, unable to stop myself. "Later."

My stained blue dress didn't last long after that. Eric ripped open the clasp from behind my neck and pulled the dress down past my belly button, exposing everything to him. His breath was almost cool enough to create puffs of steam when it met my flushed skin. I sighed and pulled him close, remembering what it was like to lie with him skin to skin, to be connected from head to toe.

But none of it, not the cool breaths, the soft touch, or his perfect body, compared with how he kissed, like he was simultaneously devouring and savoring me—all of me. His tongue stroked my lips like it was giving a massage. I pressed closer to him, squirming in his lap, never close enough, as he laid claim to me with his mouth.

After a few minutes of the best make-out session of my life, Eric leaned back, giving me free range of his body. I liked having him beneath me, having the freedom to sprawl and explore wherever I chose. There was so much to enjoy and not nearly enough of me to enjoy it.

My mouth was occupying itself down by his navel when I glanced up at his face. Those two delicious daggers had finally made their appearance, glistening between his parted lips. I wanted those, I wanted to taste them. Slowly, I crawled up his body, his eyes absorbing my every movement, and then I leaned in, intentionally dragging my breasts against his chest, and licked one of those fangs.

The response was immediate. Eric's hands held my mouth to his as he engulfed my lips. I could feel him swell between my legs and pressed my hips harder against his. Though the kiss was rough and overwhelming, he was careful with his fangs, never drawing blood, despite how much I wanted him to do so. The thought of being inside him, being a part of the magic that brings him to life every night and gives him his strength was too enticing to resist.

But each time I tried to press my tongue against one of those sharp points, he carefully maneuvered them away. Frustrated, I began to tease him elsewhere, grinding my hips hard enough to draw growls, which only made me move faster.

Not one to be outdone, Eric slid his hand up my body and began pinching and kneading the tips of my breasts, creating a bright flash of pain I felt deep in my core. He chuckled softly as I tried to bite back a moan.

"No need to be shy, lover," he said. "I like it when you scream."

Sensing the challenge in his tone, I responded in kind, biting his earlobe before whispering, "Make me."

Game on.

He leaned forward, and his mouth latched onto _that _spot on my neck, sucking and teasing the skin while his hands continued to map my body. Breath flew in and out of my chest in shallow pants, but nothing more. Undeterred, he continued the assault, moving lower toward my collarbone. I rubbed my fingers through his hair, partly because I knew he liked how it felt, and partly because I liked how he looked with messy hair, how it softened his hard face.

Eric eventually returned his attention to my neck, this time torturing me by grazing his fangs up and down my jugular. A loud moan left my lips before I'd even registered what was happening. But he didn't look up. Eric knew what I wanted.

I twisted my head to the right, giving him even more access to the throbbing artery millimeters beneath my skin. The heat raging through my body had to be released. I needed to be bitten, to feel the release, but Eric only continued to tease.

In case the assault on my neck wasn't making me suffer enough, he began to tease the folds between my legs, only stroking, never penetrating. A slow, exquisite agony. Every time my hips rocked against his hand, he pulled away.

I wanted to scream, on the verge of exploding. He put me so close to the brink of ultimate satisfaction, only to jerk me back to the starting line. But I maintained my silence—or, as much silence as I could—not wanting to give in so easily.

But there were some things I couldn't control. My moans eventually grew louder, hungrier. It seemed like the more noise I made, the slower Eric's fingers moved. I need something to release the pressure, some button to push. Normally, I screamed, but I was determined to hold out, so I released my frustration with a large bite on his shoulder instead.

Two could play at this game.

My hands navigated down his chest and over the rippled stomach, moving toward the arousal between his legs. Eric hissed as my fingers ghosted up and down the shaft, barely touching him. My entire body bounced when he jerked his hips, and I knew I had him.

This time I moaned like teasing him was the greatest pleasure his body could give me. And I kept it up—a deep, ravenous sound that I knew went right through him.

His eyes glazed over, and when I rocked my hips again, testing the waters, he didn't pull his hand away. Instead one, then two long digits slid deep inside me, and I rewarded him with a little squeeze and pull, my forehead resting on his shoulder.

We continued like this for some time, dragging ourselves closer and closer to the edge until only the thinnest of strings kept us from plummeting.

"I want more," I said, the words broken up by panting and punctuated with a loud groan.

Behind the heavy curtain of lust, I could see the resolve on Eric's face. "No," he said, then kissed the curl right out of my hair. "Not until I know you really want me."

"You don't play fair," I whined.

"You're right," he pressed his fingers as deep as they would go and then made the infamous come-hither motion. I screamed as I came undone, blood whipping through my veins end over end. "I play to win."

I collapsed against his chest for the several minutes to recover, allowing him to hold me up. My pulse was racing; I could feel it thumping in every corner of my body, a deep, biologic timer counting down the seconds until the next explosion. The urge for him to drink from me reappeared so suddenly it almost hurt.

"I want you to bite me," I said after the breath had returned to my body. "You need to feed. It's been too long."

Instead of the flat-out refusal I was expecting, Eric's fangs clicked back into place. At the very least, I was expecting an argument, but those fangs were doing all the talking, and they liked what they were hearing. He must have been starving.

I reached down and began stroking him in earnest, hoping that the lust would cloud the little rationality he had left. Somewhere, a part of him knew he needed this as much as I did.

"Do it."

Again, no argument, no hesitation, only his chest rumbling in anticipation as he lowered his face into my neck, breathing deep.

My hand was a blur as it pulled the pleasure from his body. A second later, I felt his mouth open and tongue coat my skin right before he bit down.

When his fangs pierced my flesh, taking what the wound offered, another more powerful explosion ripped through both of us like lightning. I screamed and clung to Eric for dear life, while he tightened his arms around me, his seed spraying across my stomach, and his mouth never loosing its grip on my neck.

My blood continued to fall into his mouth, and Eric worked to make sure none of it went to waste. He lapped and gently sucked, not taking more than a few sips, while his hips moved unconsciously with the movement of his lips.

It was ecstasy. I could feel myself in him, melding with his muscles, making him stronger, satisfying the insatiable hunger. Two orgasms and it was the extreme hickey that really did me in.

And, boy, was I done in. Exhaustion pulled at me, begging me to rest, sucking me down into a blissful abyss of restful sleep—something I hadn't tasted in a month. I couldn't help but close my eyes and curl into Eric's chest. Just for a minute.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Mm, sleep. Tired."

Wrong answer. I knew it as soon as Eric began to pepper my body with kisses, each one a little longer and wetter than the last, until finally he reached the swollen lips on my face. His mouth hovered over mine.

"Oh, no. I'm afraid I can't allow that." He kissed me then, the salty, copper taste of my blood still lingering on his tongue. "We still have a _lot_ of catching up to do, my lover."

**Worth the wait?**

**The whole Russell/Talbot scene could have been shorter, but I just loved those characters so much, they had to have some spotlight. **

**So it looks like things are getting tied off. The only major things left to deal with are Bill and the effing demon curse (will Eric and Sookie still like each other when it's gone? Dun dun dun Stay tuned…). **

**Thanks again for reading and all your alerts/reviews/favorites. Ya'll rock so hard. **


	21. Chapter 21

**Not much in the way of plot development, but hopefully ya'll don't mind. I swear next chapter, stuff actually happens. Felt like these two needed a bit more recovery time...and a few more complications 0:)**

It was dank and cool in the cellar and smelled like warm earth. I'd panicked earlier when the sky had turned from black to violet, afraid to be separated from Eric so soon. But my fears were unfounded. Once it was clear that dawn was inevitable, he simply wrapped my naked body in a blanket and shamelessly carried me outside and around the side of the house and into the cellar. Once we were locked in below ground, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was.

It had been a long night for both of us, for many reasons, and we were both ready to drop. But not alone. Before he died for the day, Eric pulled together a few old trunks and boxes that had been stored down there. After some digging, I found an old quilt buried in an ancient suitcase that was still in good shape, so I spread it on top of the makeshift bed. Eric smirked a little and tried to tell me that it wasn't necessary, but I ignored him. I even found a pillow for him to use.

With the "bed" made, Eric sat down and beckoned for me to join him. I went over, allowing myself to be pulled onto his lap and then worn like a blanket. He laid back on the pillow and held me to his chest, our legs entangled while I reached down and pulled a real blanket over both of us. A few seconds later, each of us was unconscious, safe and peaceful for the entire day.

There were no nightmares or interruptions, just rest and calm.

Despite my exhaustion, I still woke up before Eric, just before sunset. The entrance to the cellar was on the western side of the house, and the thin warped wood of the cellar door was creating its own kind of magic. Soft, orange light cast a strange glow on the space, and the ever-present cloud of dust and thick air picked up the light. It must have been dilute enough to not have an effect on Eric, but somehow still cast him in a golden halo.

Curse or no, he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The jagged edge of his jaw line was softened by a layer of velvet stubble that begged to be stroked. His skin was porcelain and radiant, wrapped perfectly around contours of bone and muscle. His hair had lost all of its structure and framed his face like it was done intentionally. In that moment, he was more boy than man—a seriously twisted version of Peter Pan. One that flew, fought, and drank blood to stay young.

Gradually, the ghostly light faded away, signaling the departure of the day. I placed my chin in the center of his chest, excited for him to come back to life. I wanted to watch it to happen, be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

It wasn't a slow process. One minute, I was lying on top of a dead body, the next his eyes were open and he was ready to go. My blood had done its job.

"Good morning to you." I smiled up at him.

His eyes went right to the two small scabs on my neck. "Have you been awake long?"

"Not really."

Two strong hands came around my waist and pulled me up to eye level, where I proceeded to tuck my head into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Once I was settled, his arms came around me like a shawl.

"How are you feeling?"

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his fingers brushing through my hair. "Fine. A little sluggish, but nothing too bad."

Eric frowned. "I shouldn't have fed from you last night."

"Well you did," I said annoyed that he was still upset about that. "No use whining about something you can't change."

But he wasn't going to be swayed. "It won't happen again."

"I liked it," I argued. "I like taking care of you."

Eric didn't respond, and I didn't push the issue any more. Instead, we were both quiet, neither of us compelled to leave the cellar or even get off the less-than-comfortable bed.

I drew invisible patterns on his chest and shoulders, fascinated by the sensation of his skin against my fingertips. Cool and soft—a thin layer of ilk wrapped around steel and cold strength. He was capable of so much destruction, but right now, in his arms, he was nothing but gentle.

"Did Sophie-Anne treat you well?"

I rolled over a little and rested my chin on his chest so I could see his face. "I guess, yeah. As well as I could be."

He was silent for a moment, rolling my words over in his mind, and then gripped my chin, pulling my face to his. He kissed me deeply, engulfing me. It wasn't until after he pulled away that I realized he'd rolled us over and was now nestled comfortably between my legs.

"That won't happen again, either. I will not allow us to be separated."

I tried, but I couldn't find the comfort in his words. He'd promised the exact same thing on our way to New Orleans, promised to keep me safe and with him, and we'd been ripped apart as easily as rented fabric, leaving me exposed to Bill for far too long. The memory of what happened in that study brought bile crawling up my throat.

"What is it?" Eric asked. "Something's wrong."

"It's nothing." I turned my face away from his, but he quickly brought it back with two fingers.

"Tell me."

The tears were unexpected and just as unwelcome. I tried closing my eyes, but that only made Bill's furious expression as he pushed me up against the mantle clearer, more defined, more real.

"Why are you upset?" Eric asked. There was a tinge of panic in his voice, yet the tears that slipped through the quiet brush of his fingers were caught by his tongue and lips instead.

I was overwhelmed, unable to deal with the fear or uncertainty any more. It was too much. Lately it seemed like every time I left my house—or anywhere I felt safe, for that matter—I wouldn't return for days and always much worse for wear. I was losing myself, disappearing. Already, I didn't recognize myself from a month ago. How long until I lost everything that made me who I was? How long until I forgot Gran and everything she represented?

"I'm scared," I finally choked out.

"Of what?"

"Of everything!" Those two words broke the dam and released a flood. "Of the queen, Lempo, of having no control in my life, of Bill—all of it! My life has changed too much. I have no idea who I am any more."

Eric listened without interruption and tried to comfort me with another kiss, but my heart wasn't in it.

"Most of all," I said when he pulled away, "I'm scared of you. You terrify me more than anything else." The honesty in my confession his me just as hard as it hit Eric. I wasn't aware of how afraid I was of his power over me until I'd actually heard the words.

Eric froze then sat up, taking with him the blanket and its warmth. I was suddenly and completely exposed before him. The cool air coaxed goosebumps from my flesh and made me shiver. I tried to pull my arms and legs into myself, uncomfortable with being so naked and raw before Eric removed the blanket from his shoulders to wrap it around mine. He looked at me.

"I scare you?"

I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around me, afraid that if I spoke again, I'd end up producing yet another revelation my subconscious wanted me to acknowledge.

Eric stood and came in front of me, kneeling at my feet. "You have nothing to fear from me. You know this. I won't hurt you, and I'd sooner kill Pam than allow us to be separated again."

"Don't say that." My voice had picked up a definite edge. "Last time you said that, I didn't see you for a month. You have no idea what's going to happen to us."

"Sophie-Anne is appeased for now. We have no more enemies. There's nothing to keep us apart."

"Bill," I whispered.

"What about him?" His large hand had started to stroke my thigh, growing a little heavier with each pass. My lips parted, and the anxiety started to drain out of me.

I shook my head, forcing myself to keep focused. "I think he's more dangerous than you realize."

Eric smirked and leaned up to kiss me again. It was short, but devastating, especially when that smirk became a hundred-watt smile. "I'm not worried about Bill."

But the expression on my face must have said more than I realized because that smile quickly fell away, and his amusement became a quiet rage. I could see the storms swirling in his eyes. "What'd he do?"

I couldn't say it, didn't know how to form the words. It wasn't the first time I'd been assaulted or had a man force himself on me—working in a red-neck bar, you got some experience with those kinds of things. But it was the first time the perpetrator had been someone I used to car about. The betrayal still throbbed in my chest like an extra heartbeat.

I could tell the thought of me and Bill was making Eric a little crazy. His eyes were now as sharp as lasers, and his muscles were tense. "Did he hurt you?"

I shrugged, trying to convince myself as much as Eric that it wasn't such a big deal. It didn't work. I couldn't look at him, afraid of his reaction. "He tried."

He snarled and I flinched. Then he began to pace the room like a hungry lion, his fangs hanging low over his lip. It continued for some time. He would cross the length of the cellar in three strides turn around, our eyes would meet for a second, and then he'd cross the room again. There was murder in his eyes—a special kind of darkness—and whenever he looked at me, it became darker still.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Eric, stop. You're driving me crazy."

He only growled and started to pace harder, if that were possible. Sighing, I pulled the blanket around me and stood up. The room spun slightly—a side effect of the blood loss—but I managed to hold onto my vision. Once I was sure I wasn't going to pass out, I stepped in front of Eric's path.

He stopped when he reached me, though I could see he wasn't any calmer. I reached up and grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me. "It's over. I'm fine. You need to calm down."

"He needs to pay."

"I'm not arguing, but you need to cut out this murderous rampage shit. It's only going to get us into more trouble. We'll deal with Bill, but we're going to do it the right way."

He stared at me for several seconds, and I made sure not to look away, letting him see that I wasn't broken or willing to give up. Not yet.

"I didn't mean to frighten you." The fist on his right side relaxed into an open palm and caressed the side of my face. I held it there, comforted by the smooth skin, but I didn't say anything else, unsure if there was anything left to say.

"You don't trust me." It wasn't a question.

"It's not that I don't trust _you_," I said. "I don't trust us. This. Whatever it is." I gestured between us with my free hand. "It's not right. We're too dependent on each other. I can't keep living like this."

An expression fluttered across Eric's face—one I couldn't pin down. But he didn't look any happier when I was done speaking. So I kept going.

"Back in New Orleans I thought I was going to lose my mind. Every day you weren't there just made it a little worse—"

"It wasn't easy for me, either," Eric interrupted.

"It felt like my world was shrinking. There was this tightness in my chest—"

"—Like any minute my heart would stop beating."

We spoke the same words at the same time.

I looked at him again, wondering how on earth he knew what it was like to have a heartbeat, but the expression on his face said it all. He was the only one who knew what the past month had been like for me. He knew _exactly _what it was like because he had been subjected to the same kind of torture.

The blanket slipped off my back and onto the floor, but I didn't care. I reached for Eric, who didn't hesitate to pull me into his chest. My head tilted back as far as it would go and I yanked his face down to mine. The instant our mouths met, a deep heat flooded through my body all the way to my toes.

His tongue swirled around mine, and his arms pulled me ever closer. Sparks flew from my skin every time he touched me, each one a kiss of electricity. Eric didn't fight me as I pulled him to the floor and then climbed into his lap as fast as I could.

My hips gyrated against his arousal with a mind of their own, desperate to feel his own friction deep inside.

"Please," I whispered into his mouth.

He blew a cool, sweet breath on my face then laid me back on the dirt floor. My heart rate tripled when I saw the flash in his eyes. The breaking point had finally been reached.

I was flat on my back once again, with Eric kneeling between my legs. His hands were on either side of my face, buried in the loose dirt. When his lips met mine yet again, I felt like I was levitating off the floor. As his mouth moved down to explore the rest of my body, the only sounds that registered were my moans and his growls of pleasure. Each place he touched brought forth a different noise from each of us, almost like we were writing a song. Then, once he reached the apex of my thighs, he showed me all the satisfaction I was craving and then some.

It was hours and about five orgasms between us before we finally came up for air.

I gasped, incapable of making any noise at all, as the tentacles of the latest—and greatest_—_O-moment slid out of my veins like hot grease. My entire body was humming, still dangerously close to that edge.

Eric chuckled, then rolled over me, so close our lips were almost touched. "You have no idea how much I missed seeing you in the throes of passion, lover."

All I could do was squeak as his hand ghosted down my side then over my belly, his touch instigating another stampede of muscle spasms. Aftershocks kept sweeping through me, and my breath trembled in my chest. My entire body was still heaving, unable to remove itself from the brink of pleasure no matter how many times it washed over me.

"You're going to make me scream," I said, my voice heavy with lust and hunger.

His hands moved lower still. "Do it," he growled. "Scream for me."

When his fingers plunged deep into my center, I did just that. And then the world promptly went black.

00

The first thing I saw when I woke up was Eric's eyes, mere inches above mine. They flashed between emotions of relief, concern, and anger.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm," I smiled when I remembered exactly what had caused me to lose consciousness. "Other than the fact that all my bones are now made of Jell-O, you bet."

But Eric wasn't smiling. "You were right to be afraid of me. Look how easily I lose control."

"Are you being serious right now?" I propped my head up on my hand, only just then realizing that we were no longer in the cellar, but inside my bedroom, in my bed, instead. Boy, I really must have been out cold for him to move me so far without waking me up.

When Eric still didn't respond, I continued. "Believe me, I'm pretty sure lots of girls would pay whole boatloads of money to be fucked unconscious, and we didn't even—" I slapped a hand over my mouth as soon as I realized what I was saying, turning as red as a ripe apple.

That managed to persuade a smile from his face, and I watched as the concern in his eyes quickly turned to mischief. "Oh, Sookie, don't you worry." His voice was a dangerous purr, and so full of promise. "When I do fuck you, you'll be wide awake and screaming with pleasure the entire time."

I shivered and bit my lip, not trusting myself to speak again. Even lying down, I was still wobbly.

"Now," he said, rolling onto his side, an arm wrapped around me and his body pressed tightly to mine. "You will tell me exactly what happened with Bill."

"Can't we just drop it?" I wasn't exactly thrilled to relive that particular memory when things were so perfect right now. "We know he's evil. Why do you need the details?"

"What's that phrase you humans are so fond of?" He thought for a moment. "Ah, yes. Because the devil is in those details." He smiled, pleased with himself for being so hip on human clichés.

"It has to be _right_ now?"

"Yes. If you are so concerned about him, then he must be destroyed as soon as possible."

I sighed then rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, no idea where to begin. He swept up my hand with his own and laced our fingers together.

"Tell me." His lips caressed our knotted extremities.

Knowing that he wouldn't let it go, I gave in and told him what happened in Sophie-Anne's study, leaving nothing out. Eric remained silent throughout my speech, though I could see it wasn't easy for him to do so. His lips grew thinner, and the line between his brows became deeper the longer I went on. I told him how Bill had claimed to still love me, and that everything he was doing was to protect me. About how his entire demeanor had changed after he locked me in the room with him, how he had forced himself on me, threatened me, claimed to have powerful allies. I even told him how Bill had taunted me with the fact that Eric would never have cared about my fate if he weren't so deeply involved himself. Nothing was held back.

Eric's entire body was rigid by the time I was done. "What he said about me not having a choice to protect you is a lie."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Everything I'd just laid before him, and that was how he chose to start off. We had bigger issues to deal with. "I know . . . "

"Sookie," he squeezed my hand, caressing it with his thumb. "I swear it. Even if we weren't cursed, I would have come for you."

My heart lurched upon seeing the softness in his eyes. So I changed the subject. "Bill has access to the demon realm."

Eric blinked—his version of the "surprised" reaction.

"Sophie-Ann told me. That was how he got to me so fast after I'd escaped. I think demons are those allies he was talking about. He was probably behind the whole Lempo thing, too, though I suspect I wasn't supposed to end up bonded to you." I half-chuckled at that, not sure how else to react. The thought of being stuck like this with Bill was too horrifying even to consider.

"I hadn't considered that." Eric rolled onto his back. "But you're probably right."

His jaw clenched and his cheeks hollowed out. I could actually see the tension in his face. "If he has access to the demon realm, it will take some time to figure out how to get to him. We need to go through different channels."

"He's planning something, Eric. I can feel it."

"Of course he is," he said, gathering me into his arms. My cheek and palm each rested flat on his chest. "We'd be fools not to think so."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Nothing for now," he said after a moment of contemplation. "It's his move. All we can do is be prepared."

Well that was a plan I had no trouble hating. Gran didn't raise me to be the kind of person to sit and wait for things to happen—not under any circumstances. I was proactive, damn it. Eric must have sensed my distaste because he was smiling when I looked up at him.

"I will keep you safe," he said—again. I swear, it was getting harder and harder not to slap him in the face every time I heard that line. "I don't intend to let you out of my arms—let alone my sight. We'll spend one more day here and then return to Fangtasia tomorrow night to start making preparations."

As if to prove his point, Eric's arms tightened around me, and his body curled around mine. It felt too good for words, and I lost the will to argue with him.

After that, we fell into another easy silence for several minutes, each of us tracing the other's various patterns of freckles and contours. But just because we were quiet and in bed together did not mean that my mind was done racing around like a crazy person. Something had been bugging me ever since I returned, ever since Eric reappeared back in my life.

"Now what are you thinking about?"

I took a deep breath, treading carefully. "It's just . . . with Bill having all these connections to the demons—shouldn't we be trying to get rid of this bond?"

Eric became like a statue: stony and silent. But I pressed on.

"It feels like it's just another thing for him to use against us . . ." I searched for holes in my reasoning, but couldn't find any. As far as I could tell, there was no good reason for us to remain bonded any longer. So I couldn't understand why Eric looked like I'd just told him I wanted to join a convent the second all this was over. He should have wanted out of this mess even more than me.

After a heavy silence, he finally said, "You want to be free of me?"

"No! It's not that," I said. "I just . . . I want my life back."

Eric was still a blank, and all I could do was wait for his reaction.

"Did you not just say that Bill had planned to bond you to himself?"

I shrugged. "I _assumed_ he did, but I don't know for sure—"

"He must have had a reason to want that kind of connection with you. Some powerful old magic, perhaps. We can use that to our advantage. Besides, removing our bond, even if we knew how, would leave you open for him to bind to you." Eric's gaze pierced mine, as my brain struggled to keep up with his logic. At first glance, it seemed sound, but there was something below its surface, something frantic.

"Fine," I said. "But then you promise that as soon as this is over with, we figure out how to put things back to normal?"

"I'll make sure things are as they should be."

". . . Which is each of us, back in our respective worlds," I added. I'd had enough experience by now to know vampire rhetoric when I heard it.

Eric hesitated, and then in his next breath confirmed my fears. "You should be with me."

I said nothing for a minute, just sat there, frozen. Then, as much as it killed me to do so, I unwound my fingers from his and sat up in the bed. A large part of me wanted to do exactly what Eric was proposing and just stay with him. Forever. But that had to have been the cursed part of me . . . right? I was so confused. I had no idea which feelings belonged to me and which were being forced into my heart. Unable to handle the chaos in my head, I ran away, slipping into my robe and leaving the room.

My feet brought me straight to the kitchen Eric had built for me. Figured.

It had been a while since I'd last eaten, but I wasn't hungry. I opened the refrigerator more out of curiosity than anything else, and was surprised to see it overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables—emerald lettuce, carrots, peppers, berries. Any piece of produce you could think of was crammed in there somewhere. Eric must have had it stocked for my arrival back home.

I knew it the second he entered the room because the tightness in my chest relaxed like it did whenever he was nearby.

"Here," he said, reaching from behind into the fridge and pulling out a strawberry. My heart pounded as he held the blood-red bud to my lips, my mind racing as it tried to figure out what he was doing. He was patient, holding the berry to my lips while he waited for me to let it in. Slowly, I opened my mouth, bit down, and sucked the sweet juices into my mouth, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Eric's eyes darkened as some of the juice escaped and dribbled down my chin. I didn't even see his hand move before it swept the drip off my face and into his mouth.

"Now try this."

He lifted the cover of the breadbox on the granite counter next to the fridge, and the aroma of fresh baked bread drifted into the room. Also in the box was a jar of fresh honey. My mouth watered instantly. I watched, suddenly starving, as he tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it into the honey far enough to coat his fingertips with the sticky, sweet goo.

This time there was no hesitation before allowing the food into my mouth. I even made sure to clean his fingers of the honey, smiling when his fangs appeared as I swept my tongue over and around his thumb.

But he made no move other than continuing to fed me various foods from around the kitchen for another half hour, living vicariously through each bite and swallow. I'd reached my limit after several pieces of bread followed by some celery, apples, and even hot peppers. After I'd finished with the pepper, he reached for the freshly cut pineapple, but I shook my head.

"I couldn't eat another bite."

"You are satisfied?" he asked. I nodded. "Then we are even."

"What are you talking about?"

"You fed me last night. Tonight was my turn to feed you." Before I realized what was happening, Eric had clasped my waist and lifted me onto the counter, putting us almost at eye level. His hands moved from my waist to the sides of my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. My legs parted without being told to, allowing Eric to move between them.

"You see? I can take care of you, too."

". . . I can take care of myself."

"No. You're just used to looking after yourself. But you don't have to. Not anymore."

I reached up and clasped his wrist, gently stroking his forearm. "Eric, this is exactly what I'm afraid of. You can't spend all your time watching over me, just like I can't give up everything to be with you. It doesn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because it takes over everything else. How are you supposed to act as Sheriff and take care of all the other vampires if we can't even get out of bed?"

"We'll make it work. You'll come to Fangtasia and stay with me."

I shook my head and fought the army of tears surging against my eyes. ". . . It's too much. You're asking too much."

"I'll be with you," Eric said, dipping his head closer to mine. "You'll never be alone again."

I pictured what my life was like before, without Gran, without my family. Jason had all but disappeared from my life, and even Tara had distanced herself. All I'd had was Bill, and what a great guy he turned out to be. I was alone—unless, of course, I counted Sam. But he was my boss, and had already sacrificed so much to help me. It wasn't fair to him.

Now here was Eric, promising me the world. He was right; if I stayed under the curse with him, I probably wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. Except losing him. At some point I would have to become a vampire. Dying and sending Eric off into an eternity of insanity was far too selfish.

"We're stronger when we're together," he said, sensing my weakening resolve. "Can't you feel it?"

"It's an illusion, Eric. All anyone has to do is threaten one of us and we're done. Don't you remember anything about what happened with Sophie-Anne?"

He didn't reply, choosing to mash his lips against my own, convincing me with actions rather than words. I couldn't stop my arms from going around him and pulling him even closer to me.

"Stay with me," he whispered after we broke apart. "I won't be without you again."

It was everything I wanted and everything I shouldn't have. I could have a life—and death—beside someone who wanted to be with me forever. Before now, I'd always said no, always put someone else and their happiness in front of me. But I was sick of it. Sick of denying myself happiness because of a couple what-ifs. Maybe it was finally my turn. Maybe we could make it work.

It took awhile, yes, but Eric eventually managed to get me back from the queen. We would adapt. Eric hadn't survived a thousand years for no reason. He knew how to change and grow along with the rest of the world. Who's to say that we couldn't do the same, only this time, together? We were both strong, resourceful intelligent; if anyone were to succeed living with this curse, it would be us.

Eric had proven himself to me again and again. He'd come for me in the Fellowship Church, saved me from Lempo, and figured out how to rescue me from Sophie-Anne. Like it or not, he was the most constant thing in my life right now. Why shouldn't I trust him?

"Okay," I said, pressing my forehead to his. "We'll make it work."

**Next up, we get some actual plot development! We get reacquainted with some Pam and Sam, and the Queen returns for an encore performance.**

******Your thoughts on this chapter and Sookie's *****ahem* less than responsible decision are ever so much appreciated**


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